


Cowboys and Archers (Hiatus)

by NevaRYadL



Series: The Rise, Fall and Rise again of Overwatch, Otherwise Known as Gaywatch [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Best McCree, Chubby McCree, Finally, Genji Shimada is NOT a little shit, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overcoming Trauma, Personal Growth, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Shimada bros reconciling, Slow Build, Trans Hana "D.Va" Song, Trans Hanzo Shimada, Trans Jesse McCree, Will overlap with Death of the Modern day Boogeyman at some points, like they should
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2018-07-02
Packaged: 2018-11-08 00:33:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11070330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NevaRYadL/pseuds/NevaRYadL
Summary: He would need to get used to people getting lost on the base and accidentally knocking on the wrong door. He would need to get used to people in general. Being on the run had… stripped him out of what little social graces he had once had.In which after his brisk reunion with his brother, Hanzo follows after Genji and finds himself joining with the newly formed Overwatch. Friends, allies, overcoming personal trauma and perhaps meeting that certain someone, this is a story of how Hanzo Shimada became his own person after all that he has been through.((On indefinite hiatus))





	1. Yet Another Day

**Author's Note:**

> Hello one and all, I thought I would start this so that my two big Overwatch fics would overlap and wouldn't give me any lull to fall into a writing rut. This is my attempt at a McHanzo fic, which will undoubtedly overlap with my reaper76 fic at times, though focus mainly on the growth/development of Hanzo and his relationship with McCree as well as mention McCree's growth and development. It might be a bit slow as I use this as an excuse to try slower pacing and focus on character development, so pardon me if it gets boring or dry at times.
> 
> Please enjoy and have a good morning/afternoon/night pups! Come say hi on [tumblr](https://nevaryadlwrites.tumblr.com/) some time!

_He was holding onto the upper part of Genji’s corpse, the blood pouring without end onto the floor decorated with so much blood. He was screaming, screaming, screaming, fingers gripping onto the sides of Genji’s already cold and rigid face as though the screaming could wake him. But Genji was quite dead. Cold and clammy, like clay setting. Red flowers poured from Genji’s hollowed out torso half, rose petals, saukra, tulips, all these red flowers and their petals fell into the sea of blood that he was standing knees deep. Knees deep, legs cut off, part of the red ocean._

_“As you can see, brother, I am quite dead,” Genji’s corpse said._

_Genji’s corpse fell into the red sea and he fell too, disappearing into the dark red depths, being crushed by darkness and robbed of all air. Choking, screaming, choking, screaming—_

_Fingers wrapped around his throat. The severed corpse of Genji was floating in the dark red sea with him, pale fingers wrapped around his throat with intent to suffocate. Dead eyes looked at him and a horrifically sweet expression overtook sweet Genji’s face as fingers crushed his windpipe._

_“You’re a coward, my dear brother. You couldn’t even look me in the eye when you killed me. Why don’t you redeem yourself and finish it all? A knife licking your belly, smiling a red smile with your intestines just like you made me do.”_

_He tried to scream but nothing but a cloud of white petals escaped his mouth._

* * *

Waking up was once a methodical thing for Hanzo. 

Surface from the nightmares, immediately be awake and prepared to move on. Years of being hunted by the dark and grisly remains of the Shimada clan had made him live on edge and on clockwork. Life would hinge on if he could be awaken by the muffed sound of an assassin’s footsteps entering his hiding spot or being able to get up and move to further throw his would be killers off his trail. Life hinged if he slept shallow enough to still be hyper aware of his surroundings, life hinged on his paranoia and inability to settle and rest.

But lately…

A knock startled him and his hands closed around his bow and he lurched up to aim at the door, an arrow ready to find its mark. His heart hammered in his ears as he waited for whoever was trying to rouse him to make another move. His skin went clammy as silence cut through the air and for a moment he thought that he was starting to hear things.

“Wrong door luv,” Someone said on the other side.

“Huh, oh sorry!” Someone else called.

The was the sound of two hurried footsteps scurrying away from the door on the other side and the heavy silence returned like a lead weight. Hanzo's arms relaxed and he let his bow slowly drop onto his lap, drawing in a breath slowly and softly as he gathered himself and his wits about him. He would need to get used to people getting lost on the base and accidentally knocking on the wrong door. He would need to get used to people in general. Being on the run had… stripped him out of what little social graces he had once had, of what little calm he had around other people.

Groaning and rubbing his face, trying to coax blood flow and clear his face of sweat, Hanzo dared to look at the clock. Five forty five am, about fifteen minutes before his normal alarm would go off, alerting him to get up to do his usual training and morning routine. As much as his poor sleep schedule demanded those meager fifteen minutes of precious sleep, he was already awake and tense and would not sleep. With a tired groan, Hanzo threw off his thin blanket and moved to attach his prosthetic legs.

It was a practiced and mechanical movement at this point in his life, it could be done in his sleep. It needed to be since he had gotten them when the infection had claimed them after his duel with Genji and he was still expected to run the Shimada clan afterwards. The need for the attachment to be second nature made it even more so when Hanzo had gone on the run from his so called family. Though, truth be told, he had hardly removed them on the run and had suffered many a nights with sore stump endings as he remained tense and ready to fight to the death with whatever assassins the measly scraps of his former thriving clan could throw at him.

When his legs clicked into place, Hanzo curled his foot and rolled his ankle to make sure everything was connected and working. The smooth and nay flawless metal joints moved as they were heeded. They rolled, twisted, curled and spread like they were impeccably designed too. When he rested for the evening, he would carefully break apart the layers of technology and oil and clean everything so they continued to operate smoothly. With his legs attached, Hanzo stood slowly and moved to the generic dresser to the side of the room. It had come with the basic quarters when he had arrived on the shadow of his brother, along with the untouched bed stripped of its blankets and single flat pillow. There was also a desk with a basic computer setup that he had not touched. Actually, if he folded the blankets on the floor and askew pillow, then the room would look completely unlived.

 _What do I expect? I did not plan to stay this long…_ He thought bitterly to himself before moving to the spartan bathroom. 

Again the room looked practically untouched except a bottle of shampoo and a bottle of conditioner sitting in the basic box shower. There was even a growing layer of dust on the small window that was meant to allow fresh air and a refreshing burst of sunlight into the room during the day, left untouched because it would only allow a clear shot at him if he let his guard down. Without bothering to turn on the light, Hanzo turned into the impeccable mirror and quickly tied his hair up and gently prodded his face for imperfections. The bags underneath his eyes were worse then he recalled and his skin paler, it seemed that his lack of sleep and general stress were getting to him again. He reminded himself to get some sun instead of slipping inside to use the gym after the sun had risen into the sky. Some sunlight would be good for him…

 _But you will see the other operatives…_ A voice whispered at the back of his mind, immediately making his stomach clench hard and a panic settle deep into his gut.

Social anxiety, someone had called it at one point. The general fear of people and having to interact with them had driven him to come off as cold, standoffish, quiet and broody, not to mention when he acted 'shy' and could not look people in the eye. Back then it had been because of many reasons, the clan's need to isolate him and try to inset their brainwashing early, make him believe that he was superior to anyone not in the family, to make him easy to manipulate and shape to their will, and thus he never learned important and early social skills for people in general. Without social skills, Hanzo had taken body language to interaction and continued to never learn. Now... now it was simply because he could not face anyone after what he had become after killing his brother, afraid that someone would see the stains on his soul and judge him, attack him, kill him.

Breathing in deeply, Hanzo tore his eyes away from his tired reflection before stalking back into his room to dress himself, choosing a simple t-shirt and sweatpants that fell over his metal lower legs. He slung his quiver over one shoulder and then his bow over the next. They were not necessary with how secure the base was, but he needed them for his own comfort. Perhaps if he saw the other operatives they would be turned away by the sight of his weapon and leave them alone or it would give him the peace of mind to allow him to talk to them.

Just as an extra precaution, he picked up his barely used comm device and the small plastic earbuds that Lúcio had gifted him. He tore them out of their plastic casing as he powered up his comm device, the stupid thing automatically set to pull up the chatting app that someone had pre installed for him.

[Overwatch Channel: Spicy Little Fuckers]

LÚCIO: Uggghhhh what is life at this time of morning  
HANA: HARDCORE LEVEL LET’S GO FROG BOI  
LÚCIO: Who gave this little pink demon energy drinks and wwwwhhhyyyyyy  
ANGIE: hana if you run now you’ll be sick, please sit down and eat something starchy  
HANA: MAKE ME  
ANGIE: oh dear please settle down

He snorted before closing the app and pulling up the music one. Thanks to Lúcio it had come install with a large selection of music to choose from, the man graciously including his own music free of charge as a gift to his new coworkers. He selected the list that he had complied himself and let it play as he plugged in the earbuds and then stuff the annoying bits of plastic into his ears. The soothing sounds of a violin started to play as he walked out of his room.

The dim lights of the hallway greeted him as he punched in the code to lock the door. The music was too loud so he could not hear if anyone was actually up and about, but when he turned he saw Satya with a laundry basket of neatly folded clothing tucked underneath her arm. When their eyes met she gave him a short nod in acknowledgement before continuing to walk to what he assumed was the laundry room or her own room. He nodded back before starting to walk to the stairs that would lead down to lower floor that would allow him outside. He could have easily left out of a window, but scaling a wall and potentially startling or frightening people seemed most uncivilized and rude. As anti-social as he was, he was at least trying to not give people active reason to hate him. He was already sure that a number of people distrusted or hated him because of… Genji.

Sighing deeply, Hanzo found the stairs he needed before quietly taking one step at a time down and then briskly entering the lower floor. This floor was mostly rooms that were meant for easy access, such as the medical bay, the garage, several of the conference rooms and the various rooms for storage. When he had first arrived he had explored some, only to realize that many of these rooms were covered with enough dust to suggest that they were mostly unused or untouched except by perchance rodents or other various unpleasant crawling things. The medical bay, the garage and the smallest conference room were the only rooms on this floor that were used with any semblance of frequency.

As Hanzo passed, he saw that Winston was in the conference room, muttering as he looked through several boxes tucked in the corner. He seemed tired and frazzled so Hanzo left the scientist to whatever he was doing. When Hanzo passed the medical bay he saw Angela humming as she turned on the lights and cleaned up. She was probably just starting her day. She already was carrying two cups of coffee that he assumed were for her. Honestly, he had yet to see someone that might have actually had coffee for life blood until he saw this woman’s drinking habits.

Not much past the entrance to the garage was one of the side doors. He nudged it open with his elbow.

“Agent Hanzo Shimada?”

He stiffened, hissing from being startled, but relaxed. Another thing that he needed to get used to, especially since she did this ever morning he slipped out.

“Morning exercise,” He said quietly.

“Very well, enjoy your morning routine Agent Hanzo Shimada, I will unlock the door when you return.”

“My… my thanks,” He said dryly before opening the door and shutting it behind him. The lock hissed and then clicked as it was locked behind him.

The horizon was mostly dark, except growing slivers of pinks, brighter purples and some yellows from where the sun was just starting to rise slowly. He breathed in the cool and slightly damp air before starting to walk. He would warm up first, make sure to stretch out his legs and his body, then he would jog and then he would run. After that, instead of immediately stepping inside, he would cool down with some jogging and then find a spot to do some of his usual routine to let the sun settle on his skin for a bit.

He started with the walking, circling the main structure before moving to jog around the island. There was a path meant more for drone maintenance and drone deployment, but he never was one that needed much for a foothold. He took great pleasure in moving from rough rock to thin metal beams for the drone housing and then back to rough stone again. The challenge kept his mind sharp and kept his thoughts from wondering what it was not supposed too. One wrong move and he could fall down the sharp cliffs that surrounded the base, he could miss step and destroy his legs, or he could accidentally set off a drone and it could shot him dead in a nanosecond.

When he came back to his starting point, he started his jog around the same path. The faster pace pleasantly made his body sing with excretion, his heart hammering evenly and quickly in his chest and his body warming as blood flowed so quickly. Sweat dripped down his face and started to soak the bends and curves of his body and the clothing covering it. He focused putting one foot on one foothold after the other, keeping his mind thankfully clear.

When he came back to his starting point once again he paused to catch his breath and stretch again. One of Lúcio’s strange medicinal songs started playing in his ears, reinvigorating him as he stretched his legs out before him. It was strange for a song to suddenly make him feel like he had not just jogged as much as he had and like he could do it again at full speed, but he was quickly learning that there was a mass of unusual skills in the budding batch of Overwatch operatives.

Rolling his shoulders, he looked before taking off at a full sprint around the base. As much as he would have enjoyed a full run around the island, he was still learning the small footholds. One misstep would have spelled disaster and could end his life if he ended up falling from some of those cliffs—

_Just like you want._

He stumbled and almost tripped and fell but quickly corrected himself without stopping and quickly kept running. It seemed that without the danger keeping his thoughts in check, his mind was starting to wonder. He tisked at himself and focused on the space in front of himself. He was the master of his own thoughts, he was in control, and he could control these violent and dark impulsive thoughts—

_You harbor no control, I know this._

He made it back to his starting point, breathing hard and sweat dripping off of him. He glowered at the ground as he caught his breath and used the edge of his shirt to dry his face of unpleasantly slickness. The heavy and dark mess of emotions stirred and for a moment he considered just running like a wild mustang around the edge of the island just to silence them with adrenaline and danger and the possibility of just violently hurting himself or worse. Just to quiet his mind—

“Good morning, brother!”

Hanzo turned around, already feeling his heart stutter as he expected to see the specter from his dream using his brother’s voice, dripping blood and stained flower petals. But when he looked, Hanzo just saw just the shiny cybernetic body of his brother and the metal shell of that Omnic he called ‘master’. The green lights of his body, in the early morning light, almost looked tea green and dare he say… soft.

“G-good morning, brother,” He said quietly, taking out his earbuds.

“Staying fit?” Genji asked lightheartedly, “You always were a busy body, brother.”

“Y-yes,” He said lamely, looking down at the ground to avoid looking at… at the aftermath of what he had done. “A-and you?”

“Morning meditation,” Genji said simply, “The sunrise is always best to greet with some morning contemplation. Would you like to join? After your exercise of course.”

“I…” He started, shaking as he shamefully looked at his brother’s feet, unable to look his brother to where his eyes were behind that visor and faceplate.

“No need to pressure yourself,” Genji said lightly, “Join us if you would like too, there is no need to force yourself too, I will not be hurt if you don’t.”

“I-I…” He tried lamely, tongue tied in his own mouth.

“Enjoy the rest of your morning, brother,” Genji said pleasantly, “If you see the morning crowd out for their own jog, try and say hi for me!”

Genji bowed politely and left, Zenyatta bowing as well before floating after Genji.

“G-genji!” He called without thought. Genji turned, his covered head cocking slightly as though to question why Hanzo had called back for him. Honestly he had no idea.

“… Be well,” Hanzo said dumbly.

“Thanks, you too!” Genji practically chirped before turning and leaving him.

With a sigh, more aimed at himself then anyone or anything, Hanzo put back in his earbuds and went to find a spot to do his exercises.

The relationship between him and his brother… a tattered and broken thing that he had no idea could be salvaged… if anyone truly and wholly wanted it salvaged. Right now he had too much turmoil in him to even try, the fact that they could be… _civil_ was from a great effort on his part and whatever almost inane peace that Genji had found in his soul. He just… saw his brother and felt a thousand things and a sea of pitch and tar inside his body, soul and heart all at once and was left gaping and tongue tied. How could he even face his brother if he could not speak to him? How could he learn whatever peace that Genji had learned if he could not even speak to him…

A stubborn ass of a man… that was what it made him.

Hanzo walked for a bit, letting the music numb him to the outside world for a bit. The sun eventually rose and he briefly thought about his brother and that Omnic enjoying the sunrise together. Shaking his head, he chose to shimmy up a small cliff and found a small flat bit to do his usual routine. Turning up the music until his own thoughts were drowned out and he could focus on the methodical task at hand. Stretches, pushups, several yoga poses, squats and others, when he was done his muscles burned and he was sticky and soaked with sweat, his clothing stuck uncomfortably and he looked forward to showering and dressing in his comfortable clothing. With a grunt, he shimmed back down the cliff side and started walking back to base.

He bumped into the morning group that Genji mentioned on his trek back to base.

Angela in sweats, a very tired Hana in a big shirt and baggy bottoms, that tall Russian woman with the colorful hair and then McCree in a ratty t-shirt and sweatpants something akin to his own. Angela looked as sickeningly and disturbingly ethereal as always, Hana looked close to passing out, Zarya scrubbed at her eyes occasionally and McCree was trying to slyly lit one of those cigars of his.

“Guten tag, Mr. Shimada!” Angela chimed.

“…good morning,” He said, congratulating himself on holding back the acid in his voice. He had to remind himself that this was the woman that saved his brother’s life after _he_ had butchered him like a round pig. He had to keep reminding himself of that even as he was faced with his brother’s metallic shell. “Genji said to say hello if I saw you.”

“Ah, watching the sunrise with Master Zenyatta no doubt, as he does every morning,” Angela giggled.

“Already done? Your stamina and commitment is impressive,” Zarya groaned to him, rotating her neck and making it obscenely crack.

“Hanzo, puttin’ us all to shame,” McCree muttered, having lit his cigar. McCree took in a deep breath and let it out in a grayish cloud that look soft and muddied in the early light. Hanzo quickly waved it away from himself and scowled at the awful stench of it.

“Jesse!” Angela hissed through her teeth with a harsh glare, “Put that out this second!”

“Aw come on, ya drag me out here at the crack’a dawn and you won’t even let me puff a bit?” McCree whined loudly. “It ain’t killed me yet and it’s not gonna kill me to take a few inhales.”

“Then put it out for me, I am allergic to nicotine,” Hanzo said, already taking the cigar out of the man’s mouth. Jesse seemed quite shocked from his brazen motion and even more so when it dropped it by the man’s foot to put out, as he was not going to put it out with his own foot. His feet were a delicate system and he was not going to put out the spit stained, chewed and still smoking cigar.

“…Sorry, Shimada,” Jesse muttered, looking down to grind the cigar out with the heel of his shoe.

“See, another reason for you to quite that filthy habit,” Angela said almost smugly, “Besides the morning runs I make you do.”

McCree heavily rolled his eyes as Zarya took the initiate and started running, tugging Hana along with her until the petite war hero started sluggishly jogging alongside her. Angela elbowed McCree playfully before running after them. McCree stayed behind to grumble as he moved to go back inside.

“Hey, Hanzo,” McCree said, making him turn back towards him, “Ya free tonight?”

“Why?” He asked, mentally kicking himself for sounding so hostile and vicious. He was trying not to push people away and here he was being an ass to the friendliest of them all. McCree did not seem too bothered or deterred though, because the man was still there.

“Everyone’s tryin’ to get everyone together fer a movie night,” McCree explained with a casual shrug. “Just wanted to tell ya if you wanted to come, is all. I think we’re watchin’… Rocky Horror Picture show? Don’t quote me on that, but I think that’s what it was.” McCree ground his heel into the extinguished cigar to further put it out.

While the thought of being around a large group of people bothered him, he had been trying to salvage what he could between Genji and himself and so far it seemed that integrating with the other members had been his best bet. The awful social anxiety that plagued him and made him stiff and abrasive made it a one step forward and two steps back sort of deal, but… it was always best to try. In all honesty… the only people he generally got along with were Satya, Lúcio and McCree. Satya was calm, orderly, peaceful and pleasantly distant and had excellent taste in teas. Lúcio because the man seemed to genuinely understand how to handle people, except Satya, and was helpful if he needed something. McCree simply because the man turned out to be a rather enjoyable drinking partner and his naturally charismatic personality was hard to not find... well, charming.

“I will… try,” Hanzo said quietly.

“Mighty kind of ya,” McCree said, making a motion to tip his hat only to realize that it was not on his head. McCree grumbled to himself before fluffing his hair with a frustrated sigh. “I’ll see ya then if not drunk somewhere else.”

He rolled his eyes as Jesse took off at a leisurely jog after the others.

* * *

Trying to power down the comm device later in his room, Hanzo found himself fumbling and accidentally opening the chatting app again.

[Overwatch Channel: What is Life? Mercy don’t hurt me ;__;]

GENJI: It was quite beautiful this morning  
JESSE: ya look at it every mornin  
GENJI: And each day I will be surprised by its beauty  
JESSE: hey hanzo  
GENJI: hello brother!

Hanzo almost dropped the device but he had already been pointed out as being there. Swallowing thickly, he tapped away on the little keyboard on the bottom of the screen.

HANZO: Good morning, again.  
GENJI: Are you going to come to movie night tonight, brother?  
GENJI: I’ve never seen…  
GENJI: What’s the movie again?  
JESSE: rocky horror picture show  
MEI: Oohh, which one?  
JESSE: 2017 version  
MEI: OH GOSH I LOVE THAT ONE  
JESSE: ikr?  
MEI: Oh, can I make popcorn? I want to try and make a couple different kinds  
GENJI: … you honestly eat other popcorn then just normal butter?  
JESSE: i don’t know, kettlecorn ain’t bad, neither is caramel corn  
GENJI: …goddammit you’re right  
GENJI: @MEI please make me caramel corn ;A;  
MEI: I can do that! I like it too :3  
JESSE: if you end up makin cheese popcorn, keep that shit away from me  
HANZO: … it comes in what?  
JESSE: popcorn dusted with cheap cheese powder, usually smells pretty strong  
JESSE: doesn’t always taste good either  
MEI: Would you like anything, Hanzo?  
HANZO: I am… good, thank you.  
MEI: Okay! Jesse?  
JESSE: cheesecake popcorn  
MEI: Ooooh, yummy! I think Zarya might steal some of it though XD  
JESSE: *sweats* i don’t think i’d win that fight  
MEI: I’ll make extra  
MEI: Do you think I should ask Soldier 76? I know he never comes  
JESSE: leave the crusty old man alone, he’d just snap at a sweet girl like you  
MEI: Aw, you think I’m sweet?  
JESSE: yer one of the nicest people on base, next ta lucio ah course  
MEI: D’aww<3  
ZEN: My dear student  
GENJI: o—o;;;  
ZEN: You are supposed to be meditating~  
GENJI: I’M SORRY MASTER  
ZEN: I look forward to movie night tonight!  
JESSE: seeya ya two

Hanzo put his comm device down and did not realize he had been smiling until he happened to see himself in the mirror. Strange how something as small and seemingly insignificant as a silly conversation could unwittingly lift up his spirit.

The shower was done quickly, a bad habit from his time on the run and not wanting to look at his scars. Some scars did not bother him and were not a source of discomfort, such as the thin scars underneath his pectorals. But the other scars? On his hands, the ones on his knees that lead into his prosthesis, the ones from various past injuries on his abdomen from arrows, swords and knives. Those scars only reminded him of his ugly past, of what he had been through and the evils that he had done, especially for the monsters that he had called family. They dredged up the blackness of his mind and only reminded him of... everything. So Hanzo quickly washed before leaving the stall to quickly dry him self before facing his reflection.

The bags underneath his eyes were still stubbornly there but the shade of paleness that had come with his restless sleep and sudden waking of the morning was gone, replaced with a flush both from the exercise and the heat of the water from the shower. Tired looking as always, but at least he no longer looked slightly ill or frightened.

Hanzo eyes settled on the tattoo, the depiction of anger in blue and gold ink and taking the form of a dragon.

To think, Hanzo had once wore the marking with pride, now he only bore it as a mark of shame and of his crimes. The tattoo represented everything that the Shimada clan wanted from him, how much effort that they had put into molding him, changing him, making him into a weapon for their desires. The dragons, bound to him through the ink forcibly injected into his skin, now nothing more than the tool of a tool, the weapon of a weapon. They were nothing more than a weapon now…

Genji said once that he was ‘friends’ with his dragon. His younger brother recalled many a conversations with his dragon, bragged about them really. It had been one of the many things that would eventually drive them apart and towards that fatalistic event. Hanzo had been consumed with jealousy over the thought that his younger brother, the slacker, the playboy, the joker and the _child_ had a better relationship with his dragon, used it better, was stronger than him when he had dedicated so much to his entire being to the clan and the dragons in his arm. That jealousy had poisoned his mind and to this day he was still bitter and resentful over the dragons in his arm.

For a fleeting moment, Hanzo felt something akin to a sliver of hope in him and reached out to the dragons, to that cemented bond in his skin. He tried to reach out and speak with them—

And got a deafening roar in return.

Hanzo was sent on his ass hard, hitting the hard tile of the bathroom from the start. He grabbed at his arm as the tattoo rippled and seems and wisps of blue light started to escape from the dark lines. The roar sent his ears ringing and it took a moment for the garbled growling to come through and fill his ears until his own thoughts started to drown out. His eyes slammed shut and his teeth clamped together as he tried to focus only to be unable to with the loud and intense growling in his ear. His hands clamped over his ears in a fair attempt to block out the noise, much like a child would and it only further distressed him.

The panic of the sheer lack of control, the old dredged up turmoil only furthering it and then pain as the dragons pushed and tore spiritually at his body in an attempt to get out and the growling grew more frantic and louder. Like those tough nights right after the bond had been made and he had spent many hours in agony as the skin healed, the dragons roared and his own emotions started killing him from the inside. 

That he was reduced to a child curled up on the cold bathroom floor and gagging on the pain, gave him the thought process to sever the link. The power just underneath the skin snapped shut and left him panting and hunched up on the floor, panting and sweating. A metallic taste was in his mouth and he quickly grew cold laying there.

_Get up, pathetic weakling._

With a grunt, Hanzo forced himself up to brush his teeth and wipe down his skin to avoid another shower. When that was done, he brushed his hair and tied it back with his ribbon. After only a second thought, he pulled up the sleeve of his Gi that was normally left down, grabbed his bow and arrows, his comm device and earbuds and left to find a range to calm his thoughts and give him something else to focus on then the walking disaster that he was.

* * *

The archery range was where he was found later by McCree.

“Howdy,” McCree said conversationally, tipping that hat of his. McCree was back in most of his usual cowboy garb, sans the chest piece and the serape. He still looked the picture of what a cowboy was supposed to look like, dark skin spotted with faint freckles, sun warmed hair and dark friendly eyes and a wide and charming smile.

“…hello,” Hanzo said, picking up another arrow.

“Normally I’d give you your space, but Zarya destroyed the three other ranges,” McCree shrugged, “Surprised you didn’t run for it with the noise.”

“I was not paying attention,” Hanzo shrugged back. Until his comm device had let out a pathetic little beep to warn him of a dying battery, he had been blasting some of the Korean death metal that Hana had acquired from a fan of hers and shared with her coworkers. The noise was probably lost on him just as the foreign words were lost on him.

“I’ll sit over there and keep quiet till you're done,” McCree said, jerking his head to the chair off to the side.

McCree pulled out his comm device and went casually walking towards the chair.

“…Training with a second is better,” He said.

“Hmm, you sure?” McCree said, making a chewing motion with his teeth that made him think that perhaps McCree smoked more to grind something with his teeth then the nicotine.

“Yes, I have wanted to see your impressive aim close up,” He said truthfully, “Your technique fascinates me.”

“Well shucks, that’s mighty kind of you, Hanzo,” McCree smiled, beaming that bright and friendly grin of his. The man was far too friendly and open for his own good, it was a wonder that McCree was so damned charismatic if he just pointed those puppy eyes at someone. “Been meanin’ to pay attention to your technique too. Your aim is somethin’ else.”

Hanzo was grateful that the dragons were left out, normally anyone that tried to bring up his archery skills brought up the dragons. Hanzo merely nodded as Jesse picked up his gun and loaded it carefully, spinning the barrel before letting it click into place. He rolled his shoulder as he took up an arrow, notching it and pulling the string back a bit. Hanzo had given up on wearing the sleeve after one too many jerks to the material had almost damaged the material and now the arm and the dreaded tattoo were bare as they always were. McCree hummed some tune as he punched in the buttons to adjust the enemy bots for a second person.

“Teamwork or competition?” McCree asked.

“Teamwork, if we wish to observe each other’s skills,” He said, testing the strength of the string.

“Smart thinkin’ as always,” McCree whistled before punching the button that would start the simulation. Hanzo turned to length of field and pulled the drawstring back all the way, waiting as the machinery whirled. He looked out of the corner of his eye and saw Jesse hold up his gun, the other going to where he would normally hold his flashbangs but the belts were now empty.

When the first bot appeared an arrow pierced its metallic head casing. The next was shot through the abdomen casing. It started a pattern of them falling in a rhythm to bullet or to arrow, always lethal shots. He watched Jesse out of the corner of his eye when it was where the bullet was supposed to kill and he caught Jesse watching him when it was time where the arrow was supposed to.

There was a sort of art to how Jesse shot, much like his personality and demeanor. It was rough perhaps, a bit jerky, but there was a sort of confidence and power in the movement, a ploy much like the man’s outward jovial personality hid a terrifying skill and resourcefulness underneath. When he aimed one eye slivered as the other followed with precision after the target. When he reloaded it was frighteningly fast and without a wasted movement, a necessity he supposed when one was a person on the run.

The moment he was awestruck was when McCree used that special skill of his when several bots popped up. The man took a deep breath in, lifted up the metallic arm and for a moment he swore the man’s dominant eye went red. Then it was over and McCree shot six of them dead and it was his turn to quickly dispatch the next batch of bots. Unlike McCree, he did not send his dragons after any particularly large batches of enemies, still wary of how their voices had almost destroyed him earlier, instead aiming quickly and shooting several scatter arrows.

“Wow!” McCree yelped when one went stray and bounced into the booth they were standing in.

"My apologies!"

The awful grinding buzz of the range told him that the simulation was over. Hanzo sighed as he let his arms relax and realized how sore he was. Something warm on his shoulders would do him a world of help.

“Holy shiiiittt,” McCree whistled as he surveyed the damage on the other end of the range. “I knew your aim was somethin’ else, but seein' it up close is _somethin’ else_.”

“And you as well, you make your own aim seem so easy, like a second instinct,” He said as Jesse put away his gun and he gathered his quiver and bow.

“Well, you gotta do what you gotta do when it comes to either you or the other guy walkin’ away or not,” McCree said nonchalantly. Again McCree made a chewing motion as though he had a cigar in his mouth and then quickly caught himself. A cigar was popped but thankfully not lit up, instead but between those frustrated teeth and then he could barely tell if those teeth were trying to grind or not.

“When did you pick up archery?” McCree asked, voice thicker and accent raspier behind a cigar.

“When I was young, it was a hobby that I enjoyed,” He said, inspecting the string of his bow.

“Better than me, I suppose,” McCree laughed warmly, “I just had good hand-eye coordination cause my old man was an art teacher that tried to get his kids into art.”

“You draw?” He asked, curious.

“Oh don’t gimme that,” McCree chuckled, mock offended, “I can do delicate things too. I used to paint when I was younger, found out that hand-eye coordination just naturally followed and when I picked up my first gun, I was already shootin' bull’s-eyes.”

For some reason Hanzo chuckled, feeling a smile tug at his mouth. McCree had a habit of doing that.

“Well, I better clean up if I wanna claim a spot for movie night,” McCree said, “Are we gonna see ya there, Hanzo?”

“Perhaps,” He smiled.

“Alright then, see ya there,” McCree smiled back, “I’ll even sneak in a bottle of the bourbon you hate so much.”

“Such unsophisticated taste,” He said in mock disgust.

“What can I say? I prefer my liquor with a bit more bit then that sake of yers,” McCree laughed as he left.

He felt a bit better.


	2. Progress to the Objective

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Language, mentions of mental illness, bodily harm, trans Hanzo, trans D.Va
> 
> Sometimes you cannot see how far you have traveled until someone else has made a note of it, then you see just how many miles you have walked, traveler.

Despite his reservations about being around the other operatives, Hanzo decided that it was in his best interest to _try_ to attend movie night. The thought of being in a darkened room with a number of people that very well hated and distrusted him, and with very good reason, made him shake and sweat and fear for his life. But Hanzo wanted to... try to get into their good grace. A small sacrifice, his comfort for several hours to try and improve the opinion of him among his coworkers. He doubted that simply attending movie night would erase what he had done to Genji, but it was a start.

After his training for the day and meditation, Hanzo took to agonizing over his limited wardrobe before he was supposed to show up to this event. He had limited clothing because he was supposed to travel light on the run, there was no room for excess or extra when on the run from assassins, not only that but he had also been too prideful to ask anyone that did supply runs to grab him anything. Not to mention, Hanzo had never been one to have... 'Sociable' clothing, always useful always practical. Most of his clothing was lightweight and darkly colored, clothing meant for hiding in the shadows to be painfully discreet. He supposed that he had his training gear, but that was a fitness shirt and sweatpants and not exactly presentable. These were not the clothing meant for a seemingly relaxed social gathering, or anything other than to sneak around in or training. 

With a defeated sigh, he pulled on his normal gi for simple lack of choice, choosing not to include the equipment meant for battle and pulling up the sleeve normally left down. It was overly formal and painfully so, but better than the alternatives by a wide margin. With a secondary thought, he let his hair fall from his usual tie and left the ribbon on his bathroom counter. When he glanced in the mirror, he still looked painfully formal and admittedly anxious and nervous.

 _It cannot be helped..._ Hanzo thought bitterly.

Literally unable to do anything else about his appearance, Hanzo sighed before sullenly walking to the rec room where movie night was supposed to happen. Normally he avoided the rec room simply because the number of people there and when he stepped through the threshold, he almost turned for that very reason. Almost all of the Overwatch operatives were there, as Hana and Lucio adjusted a dusty old flatscreen, in various states of comfort clothing and with various blankets, pillows and other comfortable things. He bit his lip and fought every sense in him screaming at him to run as fast as he could away from the throng of people.

"Brother!" Genji chimed, bouncing up from his spot next to the Omnic.

He tensed as his brother approached him with a friendly swagger before throwing an arm around his shoulders casually. He tensed, ready for that arm to wrap around his throat and choke the life from him, but instead Hanzo was encouraged to follow Genji further into the room. Hanzo carefully followed the metal and strange sturdy material covered arm around his shoulders, stepping over and around operatives as they snacked, chatted and generally waited for Hana and Lucio to finish setting up. To his surprise no one so much as glanced at him, in a sort of 'we were told to ignore you' sort of way, so perhaps his brother had said something during the day.

"Here, sit between me and McCree," Genji said, pointing to the middle cushion of the coach. The Omnic sitting on the edge nodded to him before returning to whatever conversation it was having with Angela. The couch was empty beside it.

"...very well," He said, taking a seat where he was instructed. Genji flopped down next to him, keeping an arm around him and throwing an arm around the omnic's back. It put a sour taste in his mouth to see Genji be so familiar with this Omnic... But it had given Genji a sense of peace that could allow his younger brother to forgive him for maiming and murdering him so... He bit his tongue on the matter.

There was a ruckus in the other room and then his seat mate came out tucked underneath one of Aleksandra's thick arms, the man himself stubbornly holding onto a bowl of popcorn. Zarya easily carried McCree over to the couch that Genji and himself were sitting on and dumped him on it before marching away to join Dr. Zhou. McCree muttered something in a foreign tongue underneath his breath before he gleefully turned back to his prized bowl of popcorn. The puffs, up close, looked like they were coated with something white and creamy.

"Your... Cheesecake popcorn?" He asked, remembering the earlier chat conversation.

"Yeah, had to fight Russia's strong woman for it," McCree muttered, "She fought mean and dirty. Jeez, you don't know how terrifyin' it is to stare down a Russian strong woman when you're like me."

"Jesse, I've seen you rip apart military grade armor with your metal arm," Genji pointed out. "You could beat her at anything, really."

"That's just my arm, G man," Jesse pointed out, "The rest of me is soft and chubby and she could and would beat my ass three ways to Sunday."

"I think you would stand a chance," Hanzo spoke up, "You should not undersell yourself, Jesse. Physique is not everything and you are a skilled man."

"Aww, thanks Hanzo," Jesse beamed, "That really means somethin' comin' from you."

"Alright folks... Here... We... Go!" Lucio called before music started to filter over the speakers.

A song about a picture show was playing and most of the older operatives were singing along, a few of the younger ones too. Genji sang too, swaying him as he did. Jesse sang too and he had to admit that the man had a decent singing voice, better than Genji's horrid off-tune singing anyway. The movie was this musical nonsense about a freshly married couple and some singing loons in an old mansion. He liked that the main character was a rather stunning transgender woman and he had to admit that the singing numbers were rather catchy. It was almost endearing to see people jump up and start to dance to one of the songs that he thought was called the 'Timewarp'. He almost caught himself smiling when Genji jumped up to dance as well.

The movie eventually came to an admittedly poor and disheartening end. He wondered why an movie had to end with characters dying and leaving a sour taste in the mouth as the lights were flicked on. Squinting in the sudden light, Hanzo stretched out as the next movie was prepared. His stumps were begging to be rubbed despite having not been supporting his weight, but he forewent the need. His prosthetic legs were of a touchy subject, one that he was not comfortable sharing with anyone and a subject that Hanzo knew that Genji did not know about and wanted to keep that way. Later when he was in the safety of his room, he would carefully remove them and work over the agitated flesh. Right now he stretched out his legs to work out at least come of the soreness.

"Aaahhhhh," McCree sighed, casually yanking off his fake arm, letting it fall into his own lap.

"Hey Jesse," Genji snickered, "Need a hand?"

"Nah, here ya go," McCree said, taking up his arm and casually tossing his arm onto Genji's lap. Genji laughed before throwing it at Hana who yelped from the weight falling on her back.

It seemed that his sentiment was his alone. He tisked to himself and shook his head at the silliness, almost feeling a smile tug at his mouth.

When he shook his head he caught something out of the corner of his eye, something blue and red. When he looked, he saw the elusive Soldier 76 standing in the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and that visor pointed at the screen. The man looked ready to start shooting despite his casual pose, that visor likely having scanned over them as he seemingly and casually stood there. Perhaps it was a good thing that he had been told to avoid 'the salty old man' when he had first arrived. Soldier 76 happened to catch his glance... And he just amicably nodded. Slightly on edge of the violent vigilante, he nodded back before looking forward and trying to ignore the shiver running down his spine. When that failed he slipped further down the couch.

"Alright folks ... Next movie is... The Spongebob Squarepants movie!"

There was a collective groan.

* * *

"Brother," Genji said.

Looking up from the pad that would let him into his room, Hanzo turned towards the source of the voice. His brother stood by himself in the dim hallway, sans his usual metallic companion which was an extremely rare and unusual sight for his brother. The two were rarely apart, under the guise of some meditation or conversation they remained glued by each there's side at seemingly all hours of the day. Their closeness had been a god send Hanzo's first week on base with his brother, to afraid to be left alone with him in fear he would attempt to finish his failed duty and truly end his brother or... Whatever emotional revolution he was afraid would eventually happen if he spoke to his brother. A tremor went up his spine as he realized that he and his brother were truly alone--

"Brother?" Genji asked softly, jostling him from his thoughts.

"My... Apologies, I am tired," He said, rubbing his brow with a tired motion, trying to quell his growing anxiety and panic, "Did... Did you wish to speak with me?"

"Yes, I wanted to thank you for attending tonight," Genji said with an upbeat, though it was hard to tell Genji's emotions with his face covered... Or at least what was left of it anyway. During their fateful encounter, Genji had taken off the visor and even in the dim light, Hanzo had seen that there was... parts missing. "I know that you were never one for crowds and being around the other Overwatch operatives is still new for you. I greatly appreciate you stepping out of your comfort zone tonight."

Hanzo sucked in a breath, uncertain.

"I... It was nothing, Genji," He said quietly. He could not say 'You're welcome', not after all that they had been through. Something as trivial as this was not worthy... He... He was not worthy. Not after all of this...

"Brother?" Genji asked, jostling him from his thoughts again, "You keep drifting on me. Perhaps you should retire of the evening?"

He was not worthy for his young brother worrying over him and yet... Here was his treasured younger brother, whom he had so brutally harmed in more ways than just in body... Worrying about him...

"Yes... Good night brother..." He said quietly before disappearing into his room. The door closed behind him and he was left in total darkness.

He stood for a moment before the emotions of everything that had happened that night crashed over him. It felt like an actual tidal wave washing over him, making his lungs seize in surprise and a sharp pain lance through his heart. He sank to his knees, metal kneecaps meeting hard and unforgiving tile with a hard _crack_. He folded over pathetically and start to shake like a leaf as a storm of pitch and tar swept over his mind. He had no strength to fight against his mind crumbling and reeling.

The tears fell soon after, the sobbing a few droplets later.

* * *

He had accidentally slept through his alarm.

When Hanzo's eyes managed to finally break through the crust keeping his eyelashes stuck together, his clock told him that it was a few minutes past eight am, two hour past when he normally was awake and already ready to face the long day. With a tired groan, he scrubbed away at the crust covering his eyes before sluggishly attaching his legs so he could stand and dress himself. In the process, Hanzo managed to pinch his fingers twice and cursed his ancestors underneath his breath. What a rotten morning already...

He briskly entered his bathroom and even more briskly got ready for the day. Hanzo accidentally yanked two knots and some dark hairs out in his hairbrush in his attempt to tame his bedhead. Cursing up a storm, Hanzo resisted every fiber of his being telling him to go back to bed. Running would help... At least a little bit. Despite having almost crippling depression since he was a child, he had never been one for laying in bed wallowing in misery all day. So dressed in a t-shirt and sweatpants, Hanzo made his way outside through his usual side entrance and almost literally collided with the morning group, sans a Hana and now including a Dr. Zhou. He quickly stumbled back from Zarya's massive side, breathing out an apology as he righted himself. What an awful fucking morning so far!

"Guten tag, Hanzo," Angela said, "Are you well?"

"Rough mornin' if I've seen one," McCree said before Hanzo could lie, "You okay there?"

"As you said, a rough morning," Hanzo said dryly, not terribly pleased that he had been read so easily and very much not in the mood to speak or be around anyone.

"Well... You are free to join us if you wish," Angela smiled, sickening polite as always. "Though I understand if you wish to go off on your own and do your own routine."

He was about to say that, going off on his own and doing his own routine would be best but he was appreciative of the offer. He was already having a rotten morning and did not need to further ruin it by stressing himself out by interacting with people. But the awful and nagging thought about improving relations with the other Overwatch members ran through his head stilled his sharp tongue before it could lash out, followed closely by the thought of the metal breakdown he had had last night. Two sides of a equally hated coin and another facet of a truly awful fucking morning, oh what to do oh what to do...

"If it's all the same to you three ladies, I think I'll start slow this mornin'," McCree said, scratching at his thick beard with his metallic fingers. Hanzo had a brief thought of hair getting tangled in the uncovered joints and a very fleeting silly thought of McCree accidentally ripping out chunks of hair like he had done that morning before squashing it. Now was not the time for intrusive thoughts.

"Jesse," Angela said sternly.

"I'm still gonna run, keep your britches on, just feel like startin' slow," McCree quickly added, frowning almost childishly at Angela, "You can even have Athena check on me to make sure."

Angela pursed her small and perfect mouth and frowned at McCree before sighing deeply.

"Very well, Athena please _remind_ Jesse to start his morning run before too long?" Angela sighed like a fretting mother hen.

"Affirmative, agent Ziegler," Athena chimed over their comm devices.

"Don't dally," Angela said before starting away with a jog. Zarya and Mei started after her soon after.

"You okay Hanzo? You look worse then that night you drank a bottle of bourbon to prove a point," Jesse asked softly.

"...Nothing, a unpleasant morning is all," He sighed.

McCree scratched at his hair and then his beard and for a moment he half expected the man to be building up the courage to call him out on his bullshit. For a moment, he wanted McCree to call him out, to make him spill all the turmoil festering in his head and let the heaviness out. He waited as Jesse nonchalantly scratched at his untamed hair to say... Something.

"Alright, not polite to pry into another person's dirty laundry," McCree said, moving to rub the back of his neck, "You want to start out slow and walk a bit with me or go out on your own like you usually do?"

For some reason... It almost felt as good as spilling his metaphorical guts out. He breathed out slowly before offering McCree a smirk.

"I doubt you could keep up, cowboy."

"Hey, don't you be makin' any bets with me, Hanzo," Jesse laughed as they started walking, "I still remember your head in a toilet after that bottle of bourbon. And don't take off on them fancy metal legs of yours either. Your little shit of brother used to do that all the time in Blackwatch. 'Betcha can't beat me McCree!' He'd shout and take off like a chrome bat outta hell. Course I could never beat the goddamn trained ninja on prosthetic legs with my chubby ass, the little shit."

McCree suddenly turned to playfully glare at him.

"What're you laughin' at, Shimada?"

He had not realized that he had started snorting with laughter but quickly covered his mouth as the laughter started bubbling up in his chest, threatening to spill over. McCree mocked betrayal, hand to his chest and mouth comically agape and an exaggerated gasp escaping him. Something about the expression broke the dam and he had to bend over and braced his hands on his knees as he laughed.

When he could steal glances up at McCree, the man was warmly grinning.

* * *

[Overwatch Channel: No Mercy, Mercy]

HANA: Owie :'(  
LUCIO: You going to make it?  
HANA: E shots don't normally hurt that much  
ANGIE: i can give you a painkiller and a numbing agent  
ANGIE: you really dont need to suffer  
HANA: I'll live it just hurts, I'm used to the pills is all lol  
ANGIE: i could fit you with the implant  
ANGIE: it would require one large needle every ten months  
HANA: I'm listening :O

[PM from GENJI to HANZO: Have you asked Angela about doing your t-shots?]

Hanzo had managed to salvage something from his morning, enjoying an amicable chat with Jesse before Athena chimed in to remind him to start jogging before too long. The rest of his morning and his usual exercises had passed without any remarkable incident, though his pinched fingers still stung sharply. After that Hanzo had dared a shower and had managed to keep his eyes off the marks that reminded him of ugly things. This being brought up? Was quickly reclaiming what he had managed to salvage from his morning. But... it would be unjust to snap at Genji when his brother was just worrying over him and looking after his health. It was already unjust that he was being fretted over by him at all but...

[PM from HANZO to GENJI: I am not comfortable sharing that information about myself just yet.]  
[PM from GENJI to HANZO: lmao okay, just know that she's really nice about it.]  
[PM from HANZO to GENJI: Perhaps in time I will ask her to supply them for me.]

He tried to put the device down when it chimed with another private message. He frowned deeply, wondering what in the world that Genji could still want before picking up his comm device. The name surprised home.

[PM from JESSE to HANZO: hey archer i found sum black rum!]  
[PM from HANZO to JESSE: What foul drink are you trying to get me to try this time, cowboy?]  
[PM from JESSE to HANZO: black rum, 50% alcohol]  
[PM from HANZO to JESSE: It sounds more like paint thinner then a drink.]  
[PM from JESSE: nah the paint thinner is this specialty bottle of vodka i have that 97% alcohol :P]  
[PM from HANZO to JESSE: ... This rum you have... You wish to share?]  
[PM from JESSE to HANZO: yeah if ya want sum, was thinkin' bout crackin' open tonight, join me?]  
[PM from HANZO to JESSE: Very well, tell me the time and I will find you.]  
[PM from JESSE to HANZO: 8pm the usual spot?]  
[PM from HANZO to JESSE: Very well, I will meet you there.]

He looked at the time, in neat blocky letter in the corner of his comm device. He had time to do… _something_ before he went drinking with McCree… training did not seem all that pleasent by his lonesome. Especially after his sparring match with McCree yesterday… perhaps he would make himself interact with the other operatives? It seemed… plausible, even with his disgustingly severe social anxiety but whom then? He checked his comm device again to see what the other operatives were doing.

[Overwatch Channel: I’m surround by changes, worn out phases]

HANA: Come on! We’re team mates! Just one thing  
JESSE: this is a trap, a nasty one  
HANA: I’m a big girl, I can take it!  
HANZO: What are we talking about?  
HANA: Trust exercise! We have to say one thing that we would change about each other  
HANA: You missed your brother’s thorough roasting :3c  
HANZO: I would not have enjoyed that or participated.  
GENJI: My brother :’D  
HANA: Hanzo how about you?  
HANZO: It would not be my place, I hardly know any of you.  
HANA: Alright, we’ll all roast Jesse then  
GENJI: That’s easy! His smoking  
HANA: The spurs  
ZEN: His overindulgence in drink because he buries his self loathing in alcohol  
ZARYA: His ridiculous chest piece, very ineffective  
ANGIE: a vote for his smoking… and drinking  
MEI: I wouldn’t change a thing! I think you’re neat!  
REIN: Same! =D  
JESSE: at least i can count on you two  
JESSE: jesus y’all that fucking hurt  
GENJI: He needs healing Angela ;)  
JESSE: nah i’m gunna bury my self loathing in a tall glass of black rum  
JESSE: because fuck y’all  
HANZO: Hana, have you be the subject of this ‘change’ discussion?  
HANA: No, not yet?  
HANZO: I would change your awful sleep schedule, your overly competitive spirit, your awful diet and how childish you are with everyone.  
HANA: …  
GENJI: …  
ZARYA: …  
ANGIE: …  
MEI: …  
JESSE: at least hanzo defended my honor, how’s it feel halfpint?  
HANA: Scathing… lmao :’)

Smirking, he put his comm device down and instead compiled a list of things to entertain himself until later that day when he would drink with McCree. He found some paper and a pencil in the unused desk, waving away from dust that was stirred up from the drawer being moved. The liberal amount of dust in his room was something that needed to be addressed. He wrote down neatly: 

1.) Cleaning the dust from his room 

2.) Brew some tea (see if Satya wanted some) 

3.) Wash clothing

4.) Maintain equipment

He paused, pressing the end of the pencil to his lips and thinking for a moment. Was he really so easy to maintain? Did he really have no hobbies other than drinking with a smoke smelling cowboy? He needed to start thinking about a hobby before he went dull or Genji started in on him going dull. He thought about his plans for the night and added something that was practical.

5.) Eat something so not to end up head first in a toilet again

Satisfied with his list, he set about doing what he had written. First he hesitantly asked Athena for cleaning supplies. The AI politely pointed him towards a utility closet down the hallway from him. Luckily for him, there was no one in the hallway, so he easily grabbed what he needed and headed back to his room. He threw open the windows and set to dusting.

* * *

When 8 o’clock rolled around, Hanzo met McCree at the usual drinking spot, an abandoned lookout deck off the side of base. The high railing was there to make sure that there was no drunken falling off the edge, the view was amazing because it looked out over the ocean and a small building to the side and the cliff to the other side kept the wind off of them. All in all, a perfect spot to get, in McCree’s words, ‘drunk as a skunk’.

He found that he rather liked the black rum that Jesse brought, a few drops had a very delicious and sweet vanilla taste and drinking more had a very smooth and slightly sweet burn. Jesse downed shots with a slightly pained expression before his throat got used to the burn, even then he brought a bottle of cola to cut the drinks with to make them more tolerable. Hanzo declined, he liked the smooth burn and the sweet taste on its own. Jesse called him ‘one tough sonofabitch’ and he only smirked before sipping from his glass, something that made Jesse laughed.

“Thanks by the way, fer earlier,” McCree said after he drained his latest shot.

“It was nothing,” He said, sipping from his glass, “It is considered rude to point out one’s flaws, I do not see how it can build _trust_ to point them out. It would only build self loathing, loathing of the person or people that pointed out the flaws and at most, a begrudging respect for honesty.”

“Yeah, bless her heart, she was tryin’ to do somethin’ good, but her execution left somethin’ to be desired,” McCree sighed, filling up his shot glass again, “I’ll stick with on the field battle bondin’ if it’s all the same. Easier to get along with someone when you’ve kicked ass and bled together.”

“And I as well,” He said before taking another wonderfully burning sip.

McCree added soda to his shot and threw it back, smacking his lips as he looked at the now empty glass. A stray sticky drop fell into his unruly beard.

“Hmm… sweeter than I normally go fer, but not bad,” He muttered to himself.

“Then next time, bring a bottle of the disgusting bourbon to share,” He said with a crooked smirk. An familiar and friendly disagreement between them at this point, since finding out the other’s drink preference. They liked to tease and taunt each other over it all the time.

“And see yer head in a toilet again? I think too highly of ya ta do that to ya again,” McCree laughed.

“Really? I will bring a bottle of sake then, we will drink our respective drinks.”

“Sure thing, pardner, sounds like a plan.”

* * *

The next morning he awoke on time and oddly refreshed. A truly new and odd feeling for him, but he decided not to waste it. He got attached his legs, got dressed in his exercising clothing, stretched for a moment and headed outside to do his exercises. Athena greeted him on his way out and wished him well before locking the door behind him.

Along the way of his normal running gave him an unexpected view of something startling.

While he was running around some of the cliffs, Hanzo saw a soft green light and immediately turned to look, hand going to his bow. The same green light eluded him for a moment, going around a cliff edge and out of his sight. He unslung his bow and drew an arrow, just to make sure, looking to where the light had gone. Hopefully it was not an enemy, he was not sure what the others would think about his definition of ‘enemy’ or ‘threat’ and he would rather not be yelled at for shooting something that was harmless.

The light appeared again and--

Was that… scales and a whisker? Wait, green light, scales and whiskers...Genji’s dragon? He put his bow back around his shoulder and started to climb the rough cliff face to where he last saw the dragon. The rough stones scrapped his hands and his metallic feet as he climbed and climbed, looking from time to time to see if he could still see the dragon, sometimes catching glimpses of it as he drew higher and higher to the cliff top. As he climbed, he started to hear his brother’s soft chuckling and… the Omnic monk’s? They both sounded metallic and robotic, so it was hard to differentiate the two until he could hear them better, so he pushed himself faster and faster in his climbing.

Finally he threw an arm over the edge and hauled himself up and he saw… Genji playing with his dragon and the Omnic watching off to the side.

He quietly hauled himself up the rest of the way and simply… watched in pure amazement as Genji laughed as he played with his dragon, running this way and that, ducking out of the way and generally just seemed to enjoy the presence of his dragon and the dragon with him. He was just so awed by such a friendly appearing dragon. His own were just so violent and angry and to see this creature…

Genji turned to avoid being playfully headbutted by his dragon and happened to see him.

“Morning brother!” Genji chirped, “Just doing some exercises right now.”

The dragon paused to regard him, probably remembering how it had bent his dragons to its will and turned them on him, before rumbling and nudging Genji’s side in a playful manner. Strange how such a powerful creature that could make two just as powerful creatures to its will could turn around and be so playful and gentle. A dark and jaded part of his mind felt that age old jealousy over his brother and his hands clenched in quiet loathing.

“She is quite rambunctious this morning,” The Omnic monk chuckled softly, dragging his hand along the dragon’s side when it passed him.

“Well she’s part of me and I’ve been in a great mood lately,” Genji laughed when the dragon nuzzled him sweetly, “She’s being sweet, aren’t you friend?”

Again he was struck with dark jealousy as Genji’s dragon nuzzled and playfully bumped into his younger brother. He sucked it down bitterly, taste something sour in the back of his tongue. His stomach soured greatly and churned dangerously.

“Would you like to let your dragons out, brother?” Genji asked as he playfully tugged on his dragon’s whiskers as it squirmed and rumbled, “It’s quite stress relieving.”

“They are…” He started, feeling his stomach twist and jealousy that made his teeth want to clench and grind, “They are not as friendly as your’s is, brother. They like to remain inactive outside of battle.”

“So did mine in the beginning!” Genji said, letting his dragon go so it could twist and wrap around him instead. “That just means that they’re uncomfortable and unsure, or you are, since they feel what we feel rather keenly. I could tell you some of the exercises I use to bond with my dragon.”

“No thanks,” He quickly muttered before all but fleeing.

It was only when he had climbed down that he could mentally kick himself for being so rude and abrupt to his brother when he was trying to help. He cursed himself for treating his dragon’s like tools and hating so much that he had ruined the relationship between him and his dragons and was pretty much stuck with two enraged assholes for the rest of his life because he could not keep himself together enough to let them feel anything other than misery, anger, jealousy and violent self loathing.

He’s ruined everything about himself and he was the only one to blame.

The good mood that he had in the morning was gone and he was left dour and sad.

* * *

His comm device went off as he tried to meditate alone in his darkened room. He scowled at it, trying to will it to be quiet and just let him think in peace. But it kept periodically going off, sending out a cheery chime into the cool darkness of his room until he finally caved and grabbed the damned thing. He opened the shaking chatting icon with an angry tap.

[Overwatch Channel: Zen’s house of ass kicking]

[PM from JESSE to HANZO: you okay archer?]  
[PM from JESSE to HANZO: you rolled in like a storm and like someone kicked your puppy]  
[PM from JESSE to HANZO: just worried is all, hope i ain’t botherin’ you]

The cowboy… worried about him… of course he was. He was hard pressed to admit that they were ‘friends’ of the sort and he supposed that he did breeze by McCree on his way back from running away from his brother and his own feelings. Another moment of him ruining something, he supposed. He drew a breath in and then out, calming himself so he could speak rationally without his awful feelings ruining something else.

[PM from HANZO to JESSE: I was merely upset with myself. There is nothing wrong with me.]  
[PM from HANZO to JESSE: I am sorry for being rude and for worrying you.]  
[PM from JESSE to HANZO: no worries I was just checkin up on ya]  
[PM from JESSE to HANZO: you looked right pissed and I was worried someone had said…]  
[PM from JESSE to HANZO: somethin mean ta ya]  
[PM from HANZO to JESSE: Hardly anyone on base says anything to me at all.]  
[PM from HANZO to JESSE: Lucio, Satya, Genji and yourself are the only ones that talk to me.]  
[PM from HANZO to JESSE: Or acknowledge I exist.]  
[PM from JESSE to HANZO: that’s probably cause of genji]  
[PM from JESSE to HANZO: he said if they ain’t got nuthin ta say to ya thats nice]  
[PM from JESSE to HANZO: then not ta say anythin at all, er he’d cut bits off]

He paused as he thought about the gravity of McCree’s statement. His brother had told these people to be civil with him on pain of bodily harm. His brother had truly said this? He would… need to check the validity of this statement but just the thought that his brother thought of him was touching and almost immediately improved his mood.

[PM from HANZO to JESSE: I did not know that he had said that…]  
[PM from HANZO to JESSE: I was rude to him this morning, I should apologize.]  
[PM from JESSE to HANZO: good luck pardner :) ]

[PM from HANZO to GENJI: I am sorry about this morning. I was rude and abrupt when you were nothing but kind and trying to help. I hope you can forgive my terrible behavior.]  
[PM from GENJI to HANZO: No problem dear brother! I realize that your dragons are a tricky and sore subject for you and I should have been kinder in my wording]  
[PM from GENJI to HANZO: I’m sorry for bringing it up as I did, but the offer still stands!]  
[PM from HANZO to GENJI: My thanks brother, I will keep the offer in mind.]  
[PM from GENJI to HANZO: You know you really don’t have to apologize for your behavior]  
[PM from GENJI to HANZO: You’re actually doing so much better then when you first arrived!]  
[PM from GENJI to HANZO: Just my thoughts =D]

For some reason he felt his chest was filled to warmth and a sense of… pride made him swell. His own brother that he was trying to redeem himself in the eyes said that he was doing better than he first arrived. The person that was supposed to hate him most was making note of his progress and… he sucked in a harsh breath and felt his eyes water.

[PM from HANZO to GENJI: That is… extremely kind of you, I do not know if I deserve it.]  
[PM from GENJI to HANZO: It is as master says, progress should be noted and praised! You’re much more sociable and less likely to hit someone then when you arrived. Excellent progress brother!]

Yes, he was crying now, great big emotional wet drops just falling down his face. His brother was seemingly proud of his progress, that though he could not see it, his brother had obviously seen and he was happy about. He was… making progress… he was not ruining his future… he was…

[PM from HANZO to GENJI: My thanks, dear brother.]  
[PM from GENJI to HANZO: lmao don’t think me, shut up and take the compliment nerd >=P ]  
[PM from HANZO to GENJI: Fine, radish head.]  
[PM from GENJI to HANZO: You leave my awesome hair out of this lol]  
[PM from HANZO to GENJI: Oh, is that what they are calling it now?]  
[PM from GENJI to HANZO: So mean brother, it’s a good thing I find your prickly and dickish personality endearing.]

He snorted with laughter.


	3. On the Road Again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mentions of body trauma/gore, Trans Hanzo, very mildly implied feelings for Hanzo on McCree's part, nightmare sequence
> 
> Hanzo goes on a mission with Soldier 76, McCree, D.Va and Lucio, what could go wrong?

A mission.

He had not been on one yet, something that Hanzo was sure that was because no one trusted him to go on one. Not that he blamed anyone, the only people that he was sure that would not mind going on a mission with him were McCree, Genji, Satya and Lúcio and together that was not a very well balanced team… at all. It was more a joke and he would have laughed at the notion if he were not sitting at a meeting with the others to go on this real mission.

“Now, you are to go in and escort the payload,” Winston explained as he pointed at part of a map before dragging a finger along a road. The designated road lit up on the screen. “And lead it along the designated path. You will encounter resistance along the way, likely defense Omnics set to stop the payload, since it’s an electromagnet bomb set to destroy their AI cores.”

Soldier 76 grumbled something low and gravelly to a bored Hana as she tapped away on her phone. She huffed quietly before putting away her phone, obviously cross but Winston was already glaring at the two of them and she did not want to make a scene. McCree hid a smirk behind his metal hand, but his eyes still crinkled with his smile and Lúcio mouthed ‘busted’ at a now pouting Hana. Winston huffed loudly, silencing them and waiting a moment to make sure that they would remain as such before turning back to the map.

“When you deliver the payload, your comms will go offline briefly. When they come back on, I want you five to report back in immediately, understood?”

“Yes siree,” McCree drawled politely.

“Yes sir,” Hana and Lúcio said together, Hana with a bored expression and Lúcio with his usual pep. Soldier 76 merely nodded. Winston loudly cleared his throat and made him realize that he had not said anything.

“Understood,” He said quietly.

“Now, any questions?” Winston asked. After a moment of silence, Winston merely grunted that they were free to go and Hana took off quickly, Lúcio wheeling his chair much more nonchalantly out after her. He stood to leave as well and to prepare himself to travel for this mission when Jesse spoke up.

“You're snippier than usual, 76,” Jesse drawled out.

“...There are bad rumors out there,” Soldier 76 growled out, “I _was_ going to speak about with it with Winston. I suppose you can listen in.”

For a moment Hanzo lingered, curious about this information that this mysterious loner was speaking about. When no one said anything about his presence, he lingered back towards the door as Soldier 76 pulled something up on one of the screens that Winston had just been using. One of Soldier 76’s gloves worked over the screen and pulled up a video of some black smear. Soldier 76 pressed the corner and a video played of the creature he had come to know as Reaper shooting at some shielded guards from just within a doorway.

A gunshot drew his attention to the purple skinned sniper Widowmaker on the floor. The two of them were trying to break through the shields of the guards by just unloading a few hundred bullets into them, making no progress. He wondered just how many bullets they had between them when one shot and suddenly Reaper’s arm was flung off. Reaper looked at his arm in what looked like complete shock just by his body language before turning back to the guards with a snarl. He kept shooting until his other arm was sent hurtling off behind him. Reaper looked at his arms laying on the ground, melting in what he could only describe as sandy shadow puddles before a gunshot went off and Reaper reeled before breaking apart into black smoke.

“Something is wrong with Reaper,” Soldier 76 said finally, closing the video, “His powers don’t work like that.”

“Soldier 76,” Winston sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “If there’s something wrong with Reaper, then that is Talon’s problem and our gain. If you have something pertaining to Overwatch then please bring it forward. Your obsession with what goes on with Reaper is just… creepy.”

Soldier 76 stood in what Hanzo thought was complete and utter shock before _snarling_ like a feral dog and then storming away. McCree shook his head at Soldier 76’s passing and he wisely stood out of the man’s way and let him storm past before looking to a tired Winston and a almost disappointed McCree standing there.

“He’s somethin’, ain’t he?” McCree sighed.

“Indeed… ignore him, let him stew in his conspiracy theories,” Winston sighed, “Most of them are harmless and if this one is about Reaper losing control over his powers or whatever, then this one is in our favor. Get ready for your trip to the objective.”

“Yes siree, come on Hanzo,” McCree said, gesturing for him to follow. He hastily bowed to Winston politely and then joined McCree in leaving. In the hallway, McCree took out a cigar but chose not to light it, instead just clasping it between his teeth to keep them from grinding. After a few steps in silence, McCree sighed out low through his nose.

“That old boy has got some issues,” McCree said, though it sounded more towards the hallway air then to him. He merely listened. “So goddamn lost in the past, so caught up in ‘what ifs’ and ‘maybes’ that he can’t see what’s in front of him. Old hardass asshole. Reminds me of Jack sometimes.”

“Jack?” He asked.

“Uh… yeah… Jack Morrison, the old Strike-Commander of the original Overwatch,” McCree said, scratching at his beard. He scratched at his beard for a moment, clearly uncomfortable, his normally warm brown eyes looking everywhere but him.

“Do not feel the need to speak of it, if it makes you uncomfortable,” He said quietly, “I will not be bothered.”

“Thanks Hanzo, you're a real sweetheart,” McCree smiled, the warmth returning to his eyes as he smiled warmly and brightly. “Maybe when the wounds haven’t been so freshly dug up, I’ll tellya about it some day.”

“Of course, we will have a drink.”

“Now that’s my kinda storytellin’!”

* * *

Lena would be piloting them to their destination, being their only flight trained operative on base. The eager woman bounced on her heels as they brought their duffel bags to a slightly dusty plane. She called it her pride and joy as they looked it over before shoving their bags into the storage compartment towards the nose of the plane. Hanzo had to knock the dust from the seat straps meant to keep him safe before he could even think about sitting down, but it seemed the dust was embedded deep into the fabric. Lúcio thought it would be a wise idea to amp up the 'bass' of the music on his gun while lowering the volume and then blast the dust out. Practical and working in theory, but which resulted in several coughing fits from working a little _too well, in practise._

“Jesus Lena, ya couldn’t do this before we got on?” McCree wheezed as he fanned some of the dust away from him with his hat.

“Sorry, was working on the engines so long I didn’t think about the passenger seats,” Lena chuckled sheepishly as she waved her hands about to help clear the air, “At least we have time to clean it up a bit, flight’s plenty long for that.”

“Ugh, cleaning while flying,” Hana groaned as she coughed.

When the dust has settled enough, they reluctantly climbed in and took their seats while Lena bounced to the cockpit. Lúcio did not want to fly while wearing his equipment, so he strapped himself into the wheelchair accessible spot and used a pilfered ‘dusting wand’ from a bin of seemingly random things in a old storage compartment and dusted what he could within reach. While he did that Lena cheerfully did the world’s most personalized and shortened safety spiel there was before taking off, the plane lurching uncomfortably forward and jerking them with it.

“ _Sorry!_ ” Lena yelled over the PA system.

“How old is you're licence again?” McCree yelped, clutching his seat as he struggled to get the belt around his soft belly. His chest plate was in his duffel since they were not immediately heading into combat, but even without that in the way the seat belt seemed stuck fast. It finally took a hard jerk from McCree's metal hand to finally free it so he could buckle himself in.

“ _I just got it renewed!_ ” Lena retorted.

“From a goddamn cereal box?”

“ _Oh ha ha._ ”

During the flight Hanzo had wanted to try to meditate, but quickly found it hard because of Lena’s ‘rough’ flying that jostled them too much for that as well as her quickly thrown out yelled apologies as she roughly corrected herself. Besides that, they had to take turns cleaning what they could within reach, cycling the cleaning products between all of their seats to help clear out the space they would be stuck with for the next few hours and then on the plane trip home. Once they reached him he was stuck cleaning everything within his arm’s reach until he could pass what he had onto a very sullen Soldier 76.

“Hey Hanzo, I ever tell you that you’re ink is cool?” Hana asked as she swatted lazily at some cobwebs around her seat.

“...no,” He said flatly, wanting to drop the subject. His tattoos were not ‘cool’ in any form or fashion. They were shame, dishonor, weapons, jealousy, a lifetime of awful emotions that he was constantly forced to remember because they were forever scarred into his skin in shades of blues, greens, whites and dull golds.

“Because they are, were they lazared on or done the old school way and inked with a tattoo pen?” Hana continued to pester him.

“... They were done in a far more traditional manner and stabbed in with a needle,” He said with an obvious tone of annoyance and rising anger. He did not want to remember the two weeks he was in utter agony as the ink was continuously stabbed into his skin over and over and over again, bits at a time as the contract between him and his dragons was slowly cemented and forever frozen into his skin with each white hot prick of pain. Blood, ink and pain had been his only companions during that horrible time.

“Ouch, my war paint was lazared on and be lasered off with a half hour appointment,” Hana shrugged, “My dad didn’t want me getting anything permanent. Maybe you can see about getting that stuff burned off when you’re older.”

“The tattoo is forever,” He snapped, temper lost as he bore his teeth at the impudent child, “The only way to rid of it is to flay the flesh from my bones or to sever the arm off.”

The plane went silent as Hana stared at him and his anger ran hot within him. He could not find it in him to calm himself or feel ashamed. This child knew nothing of the misery or suffer that he went through to get the tattoo, the emotional trauma inflicted onto him because of the damned tattoo and how much misery and suffering he endured to look at it everyday and remind himself of the shit storm that was his life. She had no idea and she thought that it could all be so easily wiped away and forgotten? _How dare she…_

“Hana, some tattoos mean somethin’ to other people other than ‘it looked cool’,” McCree interrupted, “Kinda rude to assume they might wanna get rid of it.”

“Ra-right, sorry Hanzo,” Hana muttered.

“... I apologize for yelling,” He said quietly, still angry beyond words but not wanting to look like a complete and heartless dick. Improving relationships with the entirety of Overwatch and its operatives but no one said he had to actually like or be friends with any of them and it was soon looking like Hana and himself would never get along at this rate. She was simply too young.

“Now see… much better,” McCree smiled to try and lessen the tension in the air, “Hey, speakin’ of tattoos, I got some pretty cool ones myself. Let’s see… I got a nice reminder of the good ol’ days on one shoulder, got a uh… a colorful one when I was drunk on a mission when I was younger. Got ‘deadeye’ tattooed around one bicep…”

“You don’t got one on your lower back, do you?” Lúcio laughed from his seat.

“Oh like you're one to talk, mister ‘got my own damned logo on my arm’,” McCree shot back with a laugh, “How’s about you, got any interestin’ ink besides your own logo mister?”

They went back to cleaning as they listened to Lúcio and McCree talk about tattoos, grateful for the distraction.

* * *

Much later, when Lúcio and Hana had nodded off, Hanzo found himself sullenly glaring at the empty seat across from his. He was still just so… angry and there was nothing to point it at.

“You okay, Hanzo?”

He looked up and saw that McCree was still awake, stretched out as much as his belt and his seat would allow him as though he had attempted to get comfortable enough for sleep, but still awake. He caught the gleam of McCree’s cunning eyes in the low light of the passenger cabin that reminded him of a clever hunter for some reason.

“...Still… unsettled about earlier,” He said quietly.

“I don’t think she meant nothin’ by it, but it was kinda rude of her to assume your ink meant nothin’ to you,” McCree said softly, adjusting himself underneath the lackluster blanket of his serape. “Hana… she’s young and she’s certainly not naive. She’s been through war, she’s fought of monsters and lost friends and family to the war. But I don’t think she’s seen some really, _really_ fucked up shit yet and she really hasn’t met enough people up close to learn the dark shit that can go through some peoples’ heads.”

He quietly mulled that over.

“What I’m sayin’ I guess is… sure it was rude as hell but I don’t think she meant it like that,” McCree shrugged, “Just my two cents anyway.”

“...There is wisdom in your words,” He said quietly.

“Mighty kind, comin’ from you,” McCree grinned, the low light catching on his white smile. “Now for some more… catch some Z’s before we land, we’re gonna need them.”

He just smiled and rolled his eyes, waiting for McCree’s hat to drop back down over his eyes before leaning back in his seat and trying to follow suit.

* * *

__

A grinding of his bones.

Two massive dragons chewed on the grisly remains of his left arm, chewing on the stringy arm tendons and the red stained flesh underneath. His other arm was tied to a pole as were his other two legs, keeping him spread on the cold and unforgiving concrete as he screamed and cried and begged for the pain to stop. But the dragons just kept feasting on the flesh, grinding their teeth onto his bones and making the pain that much worse.

He sobbed into the cold, cold ground and cried and begged for his father, for his mother, for Genji, for anyone that would help him. His answer was the sound of his arm being chewed on. Then he begged for the dragons to stop their feasting, that he did not want them, that he would never want them, that his life was nothing if they tried to claim it, that he was not worthy. More teeth against bone met him.

So he started cursing. He cursed his cold and uncaring parents, so hateful and spiteful to try and mold their ‘precious’ child into a clan weapon. He cursed Genji because his brother would likely never know this pain or even understand it. He cursed the dragons, calling them every name underneath the sun and cursing their foul visages and foul mouths for harming them. He cursed them until his throat was raw and blood seeped from between his teeth.

Finally, when all the flesh had been stripped from shoulder to wrist, the dragons twisted and jerked and shrank until they could wrap themselves around the bloodied and tooth marked bones of his arm, fitting themselves to the tissue that they had consumed forever. Flesh replaced with the scales of a dragon, forever gone to him, pain still making him weak and dizzy, his limbs were finally released and he could finally scream at what his arm had become.

 _“Now young one, there’s no need for that.”_ The ancient memory of the tattoo artist hissed in his head, _”Shimada blood should be stronger than this.”_

Fuck his blood, staining the floor.

Fuck everything.

“ _Now now missssssssssttaaaaakkkkkkeeee._ ” The tattoo artist hissed like a demon from the shadows, unseen. “ _This is not how a Shimada misssssstake should act._ ”

* * *

Hanzo lurched forward with a surprised gasp, hitting his seat belt and jerking back in his seat with an even more surprised loud grunt For a moment, ghost pains prickled all over his arm and he smacked and swatted away at them until he mind recalled the the tattoo and skin had been healed for many years and he could settle, panting and shaking in his seat. It had been... many years since he had a nightmare about his arm and it seemed that it still haunted him all the same.

“You okay, Hanzo?” McCree asked.

He looked up to see McCree standing and stretching, the others still asleep. It seemed that Hanzo had gotten not only a poor quality of sleep, but also a poor number of hours again as well. He groaned as he rubbed his eyes before unbuckling himself and standing to stretch out his limbs as well. When he had loosened up some of the stiffness he realized that he had never answered McCree’s question.

“Bad dream,” He rasped.

“Yeah, get those too,” McCree said nonchalantly, “You good? Need some time or some water er… anythin’ I can help with?”

“I…” He started, almost tempted to dump the entirety of his emotional turmoil onto McCree, to finally have a semi-kind ear listen to his troubles and just let him unload all the misery built up inside. But then Hanzo realized that it was unfair, that it was his burden to bear, that some of the details of the dream would reveal more than he was comfortable revealing about himself just yet. So he sucked down that impulsive urge and just let out a long and tired sigh. “...Would like a water, actually, if you will point me towards them?”

“Sit yourself down, I’ll get it for ya,” McCree smiled softly, carefully trending over to one of the compartments, careful when a hard jostle almost sent him into Lúcio’s lap. 

Hanzo only sighed before glancing at his arm. It had been so many years since the tattoo, and thus the contract with him and his dragons, had been cemented in his body. For so many years, Hanzo had thought that he had replaced bitterness and fear with rage and disgust years ago but it seemed that old feelings still lingered. How Hanzo hated the ink, violently so, and the fucking dragons bound to him. Two weeks in a bloody haze to get it down and it had almost been the cause for Hanzo not getting top surgery like he had wanted, because the design called for that dip onto his chest. Not to mention his dragons were now just tools of raw anger and fury, like a violent storm, useful only for battle... he fucking hated this stupid fucking tattoo.

McCree came back to him with a water bottle, cold to the touch, and he gratefully sucked it down as McCree took his seat again.

“Are we almost there?” He asked, only after he had finished the bottle.

“Gonna touch down here in about an hour,” McCree said as he rolled his shoulders, “Ya ever been to Dorado?”

“No, have you?” He asked, trying to keep the conversation going. It was always easier to talk to McCree and it always seemed to make him feel better.

“Yeah, been there a couple of times,” McCree said, “Mostly runnin’ so I haven’t really gotten a chance to enjoy the city that much. I’ll be translatin’ for us if we meet any locals so the local language shouldn’t be too much of a bother unless someone wanders away.”

He nodded once, looking at the bottle in his hand.

“Ya got a disguise for the city recon?” McCree asked.

“I… not really,” He admitted. He must have forgotten in because he had stopped to listen to what Soldier 76 had to say about Reaper, though honestly he had no casual clothing other than his ragged training clothing.

“Whelp, I might be a bit bigger than you but I can loan ya somethin’, hope ya don’t mind plaid,” McCree said with a warm smile.

“As long as it is clean and does not reek of that cigar smoke,” He retorted with a heavy roll of his eyes, making McCree scoff mock indignantly and then break down into chuckles. He snorted at the silly man, which made him laugh a bit harder and finally wake Hana and Lúcio from their slumber. They sluggishly rubbed their eyes before McCree kicked 76’s foot to wake him as well, just as Lena yelled over the PA that they were going to touch down soon.

“Should change,” Hana muttered groggily, unbuckling herself so she could get her bag from the storage compartment. She dragged the bag inside the sad excuse for a washroom and trudged out ten minutes later in a t-shirt, jeans and shoes with her hair tied up and out of the way, lipstick freshly painted on and warpaint discreetly covered.

Lúcio was a bit more… whimsical about it. He put his bag in his lap, undid his wheelchair brakes and let a harsh tilt of the plane slide him right into the bathroom. He did the same on his way out, hitting the space for his wheelchair directly, the dreadlocks of his hair tied up and tucked underneath a hat to hide the speakers woven within them.

Soldier 76 changed from his rather casual outfit to a plain jacket, white undershirt, jeans and a cloth mouth mask and sunglasses that kept his face hidden. Honestly he looked no different, but he supposed that the point was to look different then most of their well known selves and Soldier 76 almost looked like a normal older man… though still sort of shifty.

McCree just shucked his chest piece, serape, and replaced his arm with a much more civilian friendly model, and then had taken off his chaps. That left him in a red plaid shirt, black undershirt, worn jeans, cowboy boots and and hat. McCree also looked like a normal citizen that you would see in America’s southern regions, though he knew better then to call McCree normal.

“Let’s see… need to hid Hanzo’s regal form…” McCree muttered as he searched through his bag.

A moment later a soft white t-shirt, blue denim shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans were tossed at him. An experimental sniff revealed that they in fact smelled more like someplace dry and arid than anything foul or cigar smoke thankfully. They smelled… warm and just very much like McCree. With a muttered ‘thank you’, he ventured into the bathroom to replace his garbs with his temporary disguise.

All of the fabric was well worn and very soft and pleasant to the touch. For a moment he hoped that McCree had not passed onto him his most beloved outfit before deciding to ask McCree about it later. He undressed himself from his Gi and first pulled on the t-shirt, scrunching his nose at the tightness around his biceps. McCree was indeed a larger man, but it appeared that he was more muscular around the bicep then McCree’s arms. He pulled on the other shirt, thankfully a size larger. He hoped that he would not need to shoot from his bow at any soon, this much material would impede his shooting abilities. He pulled on the pants after that and rolled them up until they hung over his metallic feet, mostly covering them.

When he came out, McCree gave him a thumbs up.

“Lookin’ good, pardner,” McCree drawled with a smile.

“You look so… normal,” Hana mentioned.

“That’s the point Hana, it’s why you got yelled at to cover up your war paint,” McCree retorted, “And Lúcio got told to use his chair and cover up his hair. To look like normal people instead a fighters.”

“And you would know, outlaw,” Hana sighed, sticking her tongue out childishly.

“I would, I’ve been on the run before, I know how to blend into crowds and hide right under people’s noses,” McCree pointed out, puffing his chest up with pride. “And if you get recognized by any of your fans, then we’re bum fucked screwed, by the way. Winston said pull out if anyone remembers us.”

“You heard the man, pull out faster than McCree with cooking duty!” Lúcio laughed while McCree looked indignant. Hanzo snorted with laughter before he could stop himself and McCree looked _beside_ himself.

* * *

Dorado was hot and Hanzo was grateful for the two shirts that he was wearing to hide the fact that he was sweating profusely underneath the heavy heat settling on the group. He ended up borrowing a hair tie from Lúcio to tie up his hair with something, since the gold hair ribbon was a bit too ‘ostentatious’ for his disguise, to get the sweat damp hair off of the back of his neck. Hanzo had to admit though, they strangely did end up looking like a group of friends on a road trip together as they walked through the city as they re-conned where they would be escorting the payload, McCree leading the way since he could read most of the signs and could speak with the locals.

Hanzo had to admit, it was interesting to see his fellow operatives in a more serious mode while they played their parts.

Hana took pictures that seemed that she was taking in the scenes but was really pinpointing spots of interest along the route. While she appeared her normal childish self, she took her picture taking duties seriously, dutifully keeping notes of spots for ambushes, spots were the payload might have trouble moving through, good places for cover and the like. She took her pictures with cold precision, crisp clear pictures that they would later study.

Lúcio listened in on the local radios under the guise of listening to his music, listening to the local chatter and making sure that their only opposition was what they had been forewarned about. He also listened in for radio and signal jammers, for possible locations that their enemies could be waiting and tried to look the part of unintimidating, wheelchair bound music lover.

Soldier 76 would vanish from their group, coming back and grunting something to himself before vanishing again. Eventually he realized that 76 was doing physical recon of the area, looking through buildings that he could go through and walking through alleyways and the like to make sure that the way was okay to use. He probably also looked for anything out of the normal because he swore he saw the man stuff metal boxes in trash cans at several stops along the way but perhaps he was just clearing out locations that they would be entering? It was hard to say when the man was doing his own thing.

For his own part he looked out for spots where he could shot and potential sniper posts. Dorado had many differently leveled buildings that would hamper a sniper but very easily hide them and provide lethal shots in certain key spots along the path of the payload. He made sure to mentally note each and every one and made sure to remember the spots that would have advantage over those spots just to make sure that he could easily take care of any snipers or shooters along the way.

“Alright, that should ‘bout cover it,” McCree said once they had made a loop, “Supper anyone?”

McCree herded them towards a quaint little family owned restaurant that catered to tourists in case they were not savvy to local cuisine. Mysteriously along the way they lost Soldier 76, though he had a feeling that they would find him peering out the window of their hotel if they went back there. If he were not hungry and desperate for some sort of shade, he would have done the same. Gentle instrumental music played as they took a booth inside the blissfully air conditioned restaurant, sitting heavily after all the walking that they had done. Hana gracelessly plopped down on the wooden bench inside of a unoccupied booth farther from the other restaurant goers. McCree took the other and then Lúcio heaved himself out of his wheelchair and onto the bench next to Hana, leaving him to sit with McCree.

“Mindful of your elbow,” Hanzo gently warned McCree.

“Lucky for you, I’m right handed,” McCree chuckled.

“Luckily for us there are pictures on the menu,” Hana said, looking at a neatly laminated menu.

They received ice water with chips and salsa first, the water they consumed quickly as they still tried to cool down. Hana and Lúcio consumed the chips and salsa with frightening ease, Lúcio eating more of the salsa because of the lack of mildness of the spice.

“Alright, so what did we learn while we were out?” McCree asked as he watched the two with a bemused smile.

“No enemy chatter, no jammers, nothing too high tech,” Lúcio said between stuffing his face with chips, “Shouldn't have any problems tomorrow unless someone drags something in between now and then.”

“Few sniper locations that would be practical or useful unless they camp,” He reported, “Snipers should not be an issue.”

“Nothing out of the ordinary that I saw,” Hana said, finally pausing to breathe, “I took pictures of possible interception locations and ambush key locations. Also a few places that could be destroyed and impede progress easily.”

“Talked to few of the locals, they haven’t seen anythin’ unusual or nothin’,” McCree told them, “So they definitely haven’t seen nuthin’. Which means that whatever happens tamorrow, happens then.”

“Be ready, got it,” Lúcio grinned as their waiter came over.

Despite the pictures that Hana pointed out, McCree was the one that still ordered their food for them. He chatted up the waiter while the three of them stared blankly at the two chatting away. Something McCree said made the waiter laugh loud and long before walking off chuckling. They each stared at McCree in hopes that he would tell them what he said, but he just grinned ominously.

“What did you say?” Hana asked.

“Nuthin’ much,” McCree smirked, “Just tellin’ our waiter about my two siblin’s and my lover’s vacation and how much fun we’re havin’ is all.”

“Wait, who’s who?” Lúcio asked.

McCree just grinned, making it a game to try and weedle the information out of him that laster until their orders came back, all through them eating, the walk back to the hotel and then most of the evening. Hanzo lauded their persistence as well as McCree’s in this childish game of theirs. They were all stubborn and childish he decided, because it was funny at first but then it became horrifically annoying after awhile and he had no idea how they were not annoying themselves let alone each other.

“Wait! Look it up, Lúcio!” Hana finally said.

Back at the hotel, Lúcio and Hana had tried to find means of entertaining themselves (that still let them play their game), he had taken to meditating as best he could and McCree went between smoking out on the balcony or fiddling with his comm device.

Lúcio quickly pulled out his device and punched away at the keys, trying to find the translation of what McCree said. The two collaborated on it for a long time, trying to remember every little detail of what they heard until finally his thin patience had been finally snapped.

“Just tell them!” He yelled, patience lost.

“Well let’s see…” McCree said, “Hana ain’t my type, not to mention she’s like half my age and... _hell no._ Then Lúcio, closer to my type but again, he’s real young and I’m real not. Sooo that leaves….”

“...You said that I was your lover?” He asked incredulously.

“Oh thank god, I’m not it,” Hana breathed, “Dude you had me worried there for a second. You can’t do that to my ace-lesbian heart like that dude.”

“You're not insulted or anythin’ are you Hanzo?” McCree asked, looking genuinely concerned while Lúcio and Hana devoted themselves to their previous left card game.

“I… no, just…” He let out a long sigh. There was no way he could tell McCree that the thought of anyone tolerating him as anything more than a casual acquaintance was… just too wild and fanciful for him to conceive. No one should have wanted a man as much of a walking disaster, a walking storm of emotions he thought with bitter and dark humor, such as him. McCree was still looking at him with great concern and he finally shook his head and sighed again.

“Nothing McCree, I merely don’t understand what would make me so appealable as a lover, false or not,” He said, keeping the self loathing out of his voice.

“...Here, follow me,” McCree said, getting up and walking outside onto the balcony.

Hana and Lúcio were too enthralled in their game to comment, so he stood as well and stepped quietly across the room and outside as well. The night air had cooled a bit, enough that he was not sweating as hard in his sleepwear as he had been in his disguise earlier in the day. A gentle breeze helped keep him cool as he leaned against the railing that McCree was leaned against, looking down at the narrow street underneath of them. A few people lingered outside, making idle chatter in their native tongue as they came and went. A few children were playing further along the street, kicking a worn ball around as they laughed and shouted.

“Sorry if I bothered you in there, Hanzo,” McCree said as he took out a fresh cigar and put it between his teeth, not lighting it and just holding it there with his teeth. “Didn’t mean to insult you or nothin’.”

“I said I was not insulted,” He said, looking at the buildings around them. Leveled buildings, most of the windows were on various levels and close, making a sniper useless. They were safe for the moment, if no one thought that an older pair of men standing on a balcony were odd and did anything about it. “I suppose that I am just a difficult man to… tolerate and I was surprised that you would say such a thing, even if it’s fake. Honestly that you tolerate me at all, especially with your friendship with my brother is... surprising is all.”

“Hanzo, you're a great guy,” McCree grinned, “You just take some warmin’ up is all. You're like... you're like... one of them expensive wines. Not for everyone but the people that do like you are enthralled by you.”

"Really?" Hanzo snorted disdainfully.

“Yeah, really. Despite what anyone says, yourself includin' mister, you're a fun guy to hang out with. You've got a sense of humor, you make bad jokes, you're a riot drunk off your rocker, not a bad teammate, and all around decent guy,” McCree rattled off. "And, I'm gonna say it, but you are one very handsome fella, Hanzo. Anyone that says otherwise has shit taste or is blind."

“You are ridiculous,” He sighed, thumbing his nose as his face lit up with the unnecessary flattery.

“You know I’m right,” McCree grinned warmly, “Your an acquired taste Hanzo, so don’t beat yourself up so much that not everyone is trippin’ dicks over you just yet. Give them time and hang out with everyone like you’ve been doin’ recently and you’ll be in everyone’s better opinions soon enough.”

Hanzo gave the man a smile, definitely feeling better then he had in a few hours. When McCree made no move to go back inside, he remained outside as well, to enjoy the peace and quiet and gentle sounds of the city as it wound down for the day. Eventually he changed places with McCree so the man could smoke and the stench and smoke would be taken away by the breeze, but McCree was still kind enough to puff away from him to avoid triggering his nicotine allergen. So Hanzo continued to stay outside and enjoy to comfortable and quiet company of McCree for a time, watching the sky darken over the hot city until it was time to go back inside so they could sleep and get ready for the day tomorrow.


	4. Hats and Serapes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Self loathing, social anxiety, trans!Hanzo, nightmare sequence, mild gore, mentioned character 'death'
> 
> Growth is like watching a tree live. Sometimes changes seem prominent, sometimes cold winters stall everything, sometimes gentle and understanding hands make all the difference.

“Oh let’s break it down!”

Hanzo shot another Omnic down as the music throbbed throughout him, filling him with unnatural vigor as he drew another arrow and launched it through the head of another Omnic. He drew another arrow and let it fly to hit another Omnic that was coming up on McCree’s blind side as the man put bullets through Omnic metal shells.

“Let’s get on the payload!” Hana called out cheerfully as her meka stomped on by the two men on the road, approaching the payload and making it stutter forward slowly before inching along. She turned and walked backwards with her meka and started shooting at the Omnics still lingering in clumps around them. Hanzo scoffed from his post before launching more arrows and then jumping onto his next post. When his feet impacted the next balcony, he already had an arrow notched and sent it flying into its next victim.

“Jesus, the one time you wanna stay on the payload and you're leavin’ us behind for it!” McCree hissed as he dodged around lumbering Omnics, trying to catch up with the moving payload. “Can’t you make a happy compromise between the two?!”

“Leave you behind and ignore the payload, got it!” Hana laughed as she kept walking backwards.

“Heal up!” Lucio said, moving to rollerblade right next to McCree who only smiled smugly as he was healed and Hana was left behind. She huffed loudly, pouting as she kept walking backwards in her meka and bitterly watching the two keep up but a distance away.

Hanzo only rolled his eyes at his childish coworkers before keeping an eye out for Soldier 76. The older man was actually a head of the payload, shooting down targets and thinning out the numbers before the others even saw them. Drawing an arrow, he shot one Omnic through the head to down it before it could hit 76’s back and when the man turned to try and shoot it and saw it down the man nodded up at Hanzo and going back to shooting Omnics. With a quickly drawn in breath, Hanzo turned to the next building in his way and started to scale, fingers finding holdings and metallic toes digging into the worn brick material as he hurried up to the roof. When his feet impacted the roof, he immediately took off towards the end of the roof before leaping to the next roof before running to do it again.

“Everythin’ okay up there, Hanzo?” McCree called over the comms, his slightly strained breath coming through loud and clear.

“Fine,” Hanzo said back over the comms, before grimacing at himself for the sharp tone. Now was really not the time to be standoffish to the people actively working with him. “I mean... The rooftops remain clear for the moment, I will continue to provide support as long as it remains that way.”

“Mighty kind of you,” McCree drawled out. When Hanzo glanced down, he happened to see McCree looking up, that open and warm smile aimed at him. The man tipped his hat and gave him a finger gun before running with Lucio to catch up with the payload. Being the ‘southern gentlemen’ even in the midst of battle, Hanzo smirked to himself before also running to catch up, making sure that the rooftops remained Omnic free as he went. After a quick parameter sweep revealed nothing on the rooftops, he glanced down at their advancing payload. Lucio and McCree had finally joined it, forgoing their small spat with Hana to defend it together. 

Lucio’s skates took him up along the walls, through the narrowest openings between opponents, over the payload and through arcs in the air to land on Omnics and thus, crush them. McCree’s aim proved true and deadly, shooting Omnics with seemingly little care for the distance, angle or difficulty of the shot, his bullets for the precise spots to put down the metal nuisances. Hana and her meka were a force of sheer destruction, stomping Omnics into scrap underneath her meka’s feet or shooting them down with her meka’s guns and when she was swarmed she had only to throw up her extra defences to give her a moment to reassess before she came out stronger and faster. Soldier 76 was a precision killing machines, loading Omnics with bullets before moving on, sometimes taking swings with his elbows around to knock metalheads clear from metal shoulders, sometimes growling deeply as they tried to swarm him only to get Helix missiles to metal faces.

The roof remained clear as he rained down arrows from above, trying to take out trouble Omnics or ones that were clustering up. Sometimes he threw glances over his shoulders to make sure that he had no unwelcomed company. Mostly he focused on being the sniper, death from above and out of the way of the action, a unseen force for good for the team.

“Sonova--!”

Hanzo glanced down and saw McCree’s hat floating away from him, his wild tousled hair sent free in the low breeze. A snort escaped him as McCree cursed up a storm as he tried to keep destroying Omnics and keep track of his hat.

“Holy crap, who’s this stranger on the team?” Lucio laughed.

“Don’t know, really hairy though,” Hana giggled.

“Focus!” Soldier 76 snarled out, silencing them.

With a sigh, Hanzo let the payload get ahead of him a deal before shimming down the side of the building that he had been standing on before quickly tracking down McCree’s hat. It would distract McCree and the others, besides, they had the mission well under control so far so why not? Hanzo found the hat a bit back, a gust of wind taking it back they way they came before another burst brought it right back to him. Quickly his fingers grasped it from the air, drawing his eyes to where McCree was now looking back at him.

“Well aren’t you the sweetest thing?” McCree called out over the comms.

Smirking, he gave the cowboy a wink and placed the hat firmly on his own head, the tie in his hair wedging it into place. McCree looked confused as he went and climbed back up the building, watching him quickly climb with his confused look all the way to the top. The second his metallic feet hit stone and tin, he went back to his job of shooting and keep the air clear, running to catch up.

“After the mission,” Hanzo teased. “We need you to focus now.”

“Just as long as I know where it is, didn’t feel like runnin’ all over Dorado for it,” McCree chuckled over the comms.

“FOCUS!” Soldier 76 snapped loudly.

They all muttered ‘yes sir’ as they refocused on their mission.

* * *

“Damn scrap pile tried to take a swing at my head and knocked it off!” McCree huffed as the electromagnet bomb still sizzled and the dead Omnics still crackled with electricity. The man took it with loving hands and placed it back atop his head, readjusting it until it sat right on his wavy chestnut hair and then giving Hanzo a friendly smile. “Thanks for grabbin’ it Hanzo.”

“I know it is meaningful to you and that it would have distracted you until you had it again,” He shrugged casually, “It was no trouble.”

“Still, real kind of you, you ever need a favor done you can count on me, pardner,” McCree grinned brightly and warmly.

“I will bare it in mind,” He smirked back.

“Comms are resetting,” Soldier 76 interrupted, stepping over broken Omnics bodies that crunched cruelly underneath his heel. Despite being hostile entities, they had given the Omnics at least the courtesy of not stepping on them so cruelly. Perhaps a certain type of rage fueled the mysterious man. “Fifteen minutes and they’ll come back, move back to the hotel.”

“You heard the man, let’s roll out and clean up after that mess,” McCree chuckled, starting them off on their slightly winded and definitely sore walk back to where they stored their civilian clothing and then back to the hotel for some much needed rest.

Lucio caught up with McCree as he walked, saying something to him even as his fingers started undoing some of the latches, switches and other things that kept his immobile legs in his Crossfade suit. Hanzo started walking as well, actually wanting a shower to get some of the sweat off of him and perhaps a drink from his gourd if they had no other duties for the night. Perhaps McCree would join him…

“Hey, Hanzo?”

Hana was catching up with him, having already sent her meka stomping back to the crate that it was to be shipped back in, he could hear its booming steps already starting to dull with the distance. When she looked up to him, cheeks dusty and hair tossed, she looked… remorseful, and the impulse to simply flee whatever social interaction she was undoubtedly trying to pull him into, lessened for a moment. At least enough that he could hear part of what she had to say.

“Yes?” He said hesitantly, fingers going white knuckled on Storm Bringer.

“Um, about earlier on the plane,” Hana started. He tensed regardless of her guilty and saddened tone, ready for his angered shouting to have sullied his already foul reputation with the new Overwatch and for Hana to tell him that he would have to leave them and his brother behind.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?” He dumbly asked before he could stop himself.

“I was a bit of a giant asshole to you and kind of assumed that your tattoos were meaningless,” Hana sighed, rubbing the back of her neck hard. She started walking after McCree and Lucio and he numbly followed with Soldier 76 trailing after the two of them. “I didn’t mean to be rude, honestly, I was honestly hoping to chat you up because I think you’re cool and my mouth just started running before my brain had a minute to catch up and well… I didn’t want you to think I’m some naive kid who just shoots her mouth off. But it obviously upsetting and I’ve felt like such a douchebag since and… I’m sorry I made you upset and I said something incredibly insensitive… that’s all…”

...Oh. He suddenly felt his anxiety decompress and honestly felt a bit shell shocked. He had never really… have someone apologize for hurting him and… how did someone respond to something like this? She obviously meant it, Hana had pride enough for all of Dorado in her unassuming slender frame, so for her to admit this…

“No, no,” He started after a long awkward pause, realizing that she was still waiting for him to pass judgement on her. “I… have not been forthcoming with knowledge about myself, you had no idea if the dragons meant something to me or not and my outburst of anger was unjust… And I do not think of you as a child just… young and not as versed with… ‘ _dark_ ’ matters like I am. I apologize for my unseemly behaviour.”

Hana gave him a small smile, a small and genuine one where her nose scrunched up just a bit, before sticking her hand out.

“So are we cool? Cause I wasn’t lying when I said I wanted to chat you up because I think you’re one of the coolest guys around.”

He offered a smile back before taking her much smaller hand into his own and giving it a brisk single shake.

“Yes, we are on good terms.”

“So… can I chat you up on our way back? I promise to try and avoid sensitive topics!” Hana grinned innocently.

“Oh, very well,” He sighed though through a grin. The peaceful settlement between them had made him grow a bit fonder and less anxious around Hana, so if she did indeed promise to avoid sensitive subjects… what was the harm? Genji would be proud…

“Okay! Hmm… favorite kind of tea?” Hana asked first.

“Black, sometimes with a dollop of honey.”

“Favorite music?”

“The violin.”

“Favorite color?”

“Hmm… probably gold.”

They went back and forth like this as they walked, Han asking him trivial questions with simple answers. Some had him laughing, others giving Hana a playful glower as she practically wailed with laughter. He found himself thoroughly enjoying the small Q&A session with Hana and when they finally unloaded their lingering gear at the hotel, a smile was on his face.

* * *

[Overwatch Channel: Two bagels]

JESSE: mission all cleared, no problems  
ANGIE: i will pass the message along to winston, good work everyone!  
ANGIE: any injuries in battle that i should know about?  
GENJI: Jesse’s pride, he lost his hat lmao  
JESSE: it was my hat er my skull to a metal fist  
JESSE: i think i chose wisely  
GENJI: lmao Hana sent me a pic of your without it, didn’t recognize you at first  
JESSE: little shit, thankfully yer brother got it back fer me  
GENJI: Hanzo did?  
JESSE: he’s honestly not totally heartless, he did wear it until the mission was over though  
GENJI: lmao I know my brother isn’t heartless, he’s honestly improving, especially since he came here  
HANA: So true, when he first came he was either locked in his room or outside exercising  
HANA: He let me chat him up today =D He laughed! And smiled!!!  
GENJI: *sobs* I’m so proud of him  
JESSE: you should see him blushin’ bout this this too  
JESSE: all tucked up in the corner turnin’ red as he reads this  
HANA: Oop and look at him go try and steal Jesse’s comm device to shut him up  
GENJI: I’M REALLY PROUD OF YOU TODAY HANZO YOU DID REALLY WELL  
JESSE: he’s red again, stole my hat to cover his face  
LUCIO: Man I didn’t think that a almost forty year old man blushing would be cute  
LUCIO: But goddamn look at him

[HANA has shared a Photo]

GENJI: BROTHER!!!!  
ANGIE: lmao  
HANA: He’s hiding underneath Jesse’s serape thing now XD  
JESSE: anyone ever compare him to a big cat?  
GENJI: Yes, quiet often actually =D  
GENJI: Social anxiety, superb agility, and a habit of biting and scratching as a babe he was often father’s ‘kitten’  
JESSE: and if you were ‘sparrow’ that is one fucked up metaphor fer what happened later in yer lives  
GENJI: … Huh, yeah that’s fucked up.

[PM from HANZO to GENJI: CEASE]  
[PM from GENJI to HANZO: COME AT ME BRO!]

HANZO: When Genji was small he would paint scales on his face and pretend to be a dragon  
GENJI: !!!! WTF????  
HANA: D’awww~  
JESSE: ain’t that the cutest thang  
HANZO: He tried to eat raw chicken because ‘that’s how dragon’s eat’  
GENJI: WTF STFU  
HANA: LMAO  
LUCIO: That’s one way to get sick  
HANZO: He claimed a young, beautiful servant was his ‘dragon favorite’ and would constantly bother her  
HANA: *WHEEZE*  
JESSE: player even when he was little  
GENJI: HANZO PLEASE  
HANZO: He would steal our mother’s jewelry and ‘hoard’ it in his nest  
GENJI: HANZO YOU’RE KILLING ME  
GENJI: AGAIN  
HANZO: He stole eggs and claimed that he had laid them  
GENJI: ANGELA I NEED HEALING D:  
GENJI: ALRIGHT I WON’T SAY ANYMORE BUT PLEASE BROTHER  
HANA: LMAO ROFLOL  
LUCIO: Man, you two are goofy, you know that?  
JESSE: and hanzo is still hidin’ in my serape~  
HANZO: Cease, I am cold blooded and you are warm and soft.  
JESSE: =D  
GENJI: Hanzo, the real dragon lmao  
JESSE: no we just need a pretty young thing ta be his favorite and some gold fer him to hoard lol

* * *

When their comms finally reset, well over fifteen minutes, the next morning they were told to stay and hide in the city as the local residents examined the scene of the battle and cleared up the Omnics. They would be cleared to fly out the next morning to report to base, but that left them with a day in a foreign city where only Jesse could communicate with the locals. They spoke of how to spend the day after idling away the morning doing much of nothing.

“We could be tourists?” Lucio suggested.

“Or blast A/C in here all day,” Hana groaned from her seat in front of said A/C.

Hanzo honestly liked that idea the best so far, because even with A/C going, he could feel the profuse, heavy and humid heat settling uncomfortably on him and he was sweating bullets through his borrowed shirt. He had already suffered through an ice cold shower that morning in a pathetic attempt to cool down and was thinking of taking another if it kept being this hellishly hot. Lucio did not seemed that bothered by the heat, then again he was used to Brazil’s climate and Jesse looked completely at home with his worn t-shirt and pants and cowboy boots. Hana was sweating just as much as him in her baggy tank-top and shorts and Solider 76 was done up in his normal vigilante outfit and he had no idea if the man was even human at this point, like some of the younger operatives suggested.

“Well I wanna go grab lunch at that diner we found yesterday,” Jesse shrugged, “Anyway want ta go wit’ me?”

“Ugh, heat and eating,” Hana groaned, leaning forward until her forehead pressed against the rattling A/C.

“Think I’ll just order room service and listen to radio chatter,” Lucio said, “My wheelchair doesn’t like the uneven roads around here.”

Soldier 76 remained silent, glowering in his little corner. Hunched over like a gargoyle, he flicked across a holo-screen at a frightening speed but he swore he saw the ghostly figure of Reaper several times on screen as well as the symbol for Talon. Deep in the mystery surrounding Reaper and his fluctuating powers, he supposed, whatever his obsession with the wraith of death was fueling it.

A low rumbled escaped Hanzo's lower gut and he realized that he had skipped breakfast because of the heat. As much as his body wanted to refuse the thought of eating, they had worked hard yesterday and he had already slept poorly, no need to make his body suffer more than it usually did by skipping meals.

“I will join you, McCree,” Hanzo said, sitting up.

“Mighty kinda of you,” McCree grinned, giving his hat a tip.

“You’re both nuts,” Hana groaned.

“We’ll find fried ice cream for ya,” McCree said, giving her a pat on the back before motioning for Hanzo to walk towards the door.

It was that much hotter outside and Hanzo honestly had to fight with his stomach to keep it settled as they walked. McCree thankfully stopped to buy a cold water from a stand for him when he noticed Hanzo's apparently very apparent misery. Slowly nursing it and dragging it across the back of his neck helped combat most of the heat or at the very least settled his stomach enough that he could keep going. Sweat still soaked through his borrowed shirt and his stumps felt like they were getting rubbed every wrong way against his prosthetic legs.

“You okay?” McCree asked.

“I am not used to this heat, it is… intense,” Hanzo groaned.

McCree put his hat on his head, giving his face some small comfort from the sun. Hanzo adjusted it to sit comfortably on his head and sipped some more of the cold water.

“Sorry, I’m used to heat, so I hardly ever notice it, it is fuckin’ humid today though,” McCree said with a sheepish smile, “We’ll see about gettin' you some fried ice cream too.”

“I do not see how ‘fried’ ice cream could be cold,” He said, “What is it, anyway?”

“Oh, just ice cream in a sweet shell and deep fried real quick, tends to be sweeter and softer on the teeth, also sometimes creamier if you do it right,” McCree explained with a smile. “Served with with the shell and sometimes not. Done right it’s downright heavenly.”

“Sounds highly sugary,” He said, already thinking of how unhealthy it was being deep fried and then being ice cream. And then whatever someone piled on atop of it.

“It’s junk food, it’s supposed to be sugary,” McCree chuckled, “I should tell you about churros.”

McCree told him about a number of local desserts, all of which seemed far too sweet for his taste, but he enjoyed McCree enthusiastically filling the silence with words as they walked. It was better than the awkward silence that would have happened with anyone else and he just seemed to not be so anxious around McCree. It was just easier to talk around him or… generally be around him.

“Damn, all this talk about sweets and I’m hungry enough to eat a horse,” McCree groaned through a grin. “Good thing we’re here!”

It was the same place from the previous day and they took the same booth that they had been seated in and the same waiter came over. Jesse chatted up the server again, Hanzo catching his name in the eloquent Spanish as he looked at the pictures on the menu to decide what he wanted this time. Something that McCree said made the waiter laugh before they left to grab their drinks. McCree chuckled to himself as he continued to peruse the menu.

“Must you charm everyone you meet?” Hanzo snorted.

“It's a gift," McCree smirked before pausing as though thinking deeply, a smug grin replacing it briefly afterwards, "Does that mean I've charmed you?"

"Hard not to," Hanzo laughed. "You make it impossible for anyone to not simple like you."

"Ha! You should have seen me in my youth, I was a right fuckin' asshole way back when," Jesse laughed. "Cussin' and hollerin' and sayin'... well let's just say that I said some things that still haunt me to this day to some people that didn't deserve a goddamn second of my bad attitude. Took awhile to shape myself into the charmin' outlaw you see before you."

"I find that hard to believe, you ever being rude," Hanzo smirked.

"Just ask Angie, first time I was dragged to the clinic she was interning at to get looked over, I said to her 'who in the hell made 'white savior' into a goddamn human being and made her look like a Disney princess?'," McCree laughed. "Angie whooped my ass for that, grabbed her prototype staff and just smacked me with it until Gabriel could stop weepin' with laughter, asshole. She likes me plenty now, but damn, did she fuckin' despite me back then. Still holds that comment over my head."

Hanzo laughed too. How could anyone not just like this man?

* * *

McCree drank with him on the roof when the sun had finally set and the city had cooled greatly. McCree brought tequila, lime wedges, salt and glasses with plenty of ice. Tequila shots and margaritas followed one another until dark thoughts were blurred to a soft, light grey and misery seemed so far away. McCree laughed when he made a bad pun about their drinks, moon hitting his teeth and giving him the clever smile of a hunter but his eyes showing nothing but mirth.

“I wish to cut the sleeve of this shirt,” He drawled drunkenly, tugging on his shirt.

“I like that shirt, don’t do that,” McCree playfully whined.

“I am taking it off then, it hinders my movements,” He grunted, struggling for a moment to get out of the puzzle box worthy piece of clothing before throwing the sweat saturated shirt at McCree. The roof felt cool against his back and he groaned from the relief as heat was drawn from his body.

They bit lime wedges just to see if they could, he scowled first at the sourness and McCree just smiled green with a lime wedge between his lips, showing off like an ass. They tried seeing if they could out eat the other with salt, but they both ended up chugging tequila to bring back the wetness of their mouths and throats. Something about way he coughed up tequila after trying to get the salt out made McCree laugh until alcohol escaped his nose and then he laughed at McCree’s pained shouting.

McCree’s hat ended up on his head again at someone, he laughed when McCree noticed, took a drink, forgot it all and then asked for it back only to lose it a moment later. He told McCree he would give it back when he trimmed his wild tangle of hair, make himself look dignified and laughed when McCree said that he was too rough and wild to pull of dignified, but he would comb his hair for his hat back. His fingers found their way into McCree’s hair, so surprisingly soft to the touch, that he kept petting it until it looked neat and then forked the hat over reluctantly.

At one point he ended up with McCree’s serape around him. It smelled like dust, heat, cigar smoke and sweat but was warm and soft to the touch. McCree told him how it was a present from his grandmother when his father took him home to the tribe, it had been a blanket for years until wear and tear had made it too small and then his father made it into a serape for him. Someone named ‘Gabe’ helped Jesse keep it together through something called Blackwatch. Hanzo did not ask, just enjoyed the smile on McCree’s face.

“Where did you get the hat?” Hanzo asked Jesse.

“Deadlock, they wanted ta make fun of muh accent but I just wore it like a badge of pride,” McCree chuckled, “I made myself inta the cowboy you see taday outta sheer spite.”

“Why do you have the accent?” He asked.

“Because muh ma used ol’ cowboy movies ta teach me English, I picked it up and ma, she knew an accent like hers woulda made things difficult fer me, so she just encouraged the cowboy accent,” McCree sighed dreamily.

“I learned from cartoons,” Hanzo sighed back, “My mother brought in a tutor because I kept shouting cheesy hero lines.”

“Nice,” McCree grinned.

Eventually they settled for heading back inside, both leaning against one another as they stumbled and tripped over their own feet trying to make their way to their beds. They giggled to themselves when one tripped heavily before eventually separating to fall in their own beds in the hotel room. He did not realize that he still had Jesse’s serape until he smelled dust, dry heat, gun oil and cowboys as he drifted off to drunken slumber.

* * *

_Hurt, misery, power, blood, hurt, misery, power, blood--_

_His arm hurt, the skin burning brightly with pinpoint pain all over. Misery flooded his system his system as he realized that he was nothing but a shiny took for his family to use for their own devices. Power hummed through his veins and it threatened to rip him apart if he thought himself a man of his own willpower. Blood poured down his arm in unending rivers, filling a vast ocean with his crimson life essence. His arm hurt, the skin burning brightly with--_

_“Couldn’t kill me, couldn’t kill me,” A very dead Genji taunted him from his sparrow’s pearch. Sickly sweet eyes and a dead child’s smile looked down at him, “Couldn’t kill me, couldn’t kill me, FAILURE.”_

_“I didn’t want to, you were my precious brother,” He sobbed, draining rivers of blood from his tattooed arm and severed leg stumps, “I loved you!”_

_A hand clamped down on his throat with the force of an angered dragon, his brother was glaring darkly into his face. Green scales burst from his death colored skin, horns from his temples, whiskers from his upper lip and sharp fangs from his gums._

_“You didn’t, you didn’t, you hated, you hated, you envied, you envied,” The dragon, Genji’s dragon said as it tightened it’s talons around his throat. “You wanted to kill him to earn that love that your father never showed you. He was dead, but you wanted that love all to yourself. You wanted him dead little master, face your sins.”_

_He tried calling out for his dragons, but they only watched from a distance, watching bored like as the life was choked from him. Pushed away by his own turmoil, hating him as he hated them in turn, not willing to save him because he wanted to die for what he had done and what he wanted they wanted with the force of a dragon._

_He wanted to die._

_The bang of thunder rang out and a cowboy--_

* * *

Hanzo woke up, Jesse’s serape tangled around his shoulders and face and a gap of memory of what he had been dreaming about leaving him highly confused, incredibly tired and incredibly hung over. A lurch towards the room's ajacent bathroom rewarded Hanzo with a toilet and several heavings later made him feel just minutely better and almost human. 

The serape was still loosely draped around his shoulders when Hanzo finally crawled towards the shower to remove the stench from his skin. Hanzo untangled it slowly and slowly placed it on the bathroom counter before slowly shimming out of his borrowed and tequila stained pants and underwear. The tile felt cold against his ass and thighs as he dragged himself into the small stall and slowly and quietly shut the door behind him. The handles felt cold too and he was beginning to think he was already sweating for the day but his hungover brain could not comprehend anything yet. When the cold spray hit his back, he almost had to lurch for the toilet again, but he kept it down and let the cold water shock him into full consciousness again. When he shuddered underneath the spray he dared turn the water to lukewarm before scrubbing at his skin in an attempt to wash the previous night’s activities away and down the drain. Hanzo loaded his loofah with soap and scrubbed his face, neck, hands, chest, hips, legs any place that stunk of alcohol just to get the stomach rolling stench out of his skin.

Clean, he pulled on his pants and wrapped his Gi around his waist, and grabbed Jesse’s serape, before making himself walk to where the others were.

Hana, Lucio and 76 were eating breakfast quietly, McCree lay half draped over the table, hat covering his eyes from the horrendous light of the morning through the thankfully closed curtains. When Hana saw him, she only motioned to the box of what looked like donuts and the mostly full coffee pot sitting in the machine before going back to her phone. Bless her.

Despite the sugar, Hanzo devoured several donuts and four cups of black coffee before he remotely felt human again. During his fifth cup he draped McCree’s serape across his head and McCree gave him a wobbly thumbs up to acknowledge him. They both needed to stop drinking as heavily as they did with one another, this was becoming too familiar scene for him, and doing this in such a hot country like Mexico had made it more hellish than normal.

While they nursed their hangovers, the other silently finished eating before moving together their things, reminding him that they needed to pack as well.

“McCree, we need to pack,” Hanzo groaned softly, voice grating on his own ears.

“Leave me here, I’ll gladly die here,” McCree groaned back.

“As would I, but we need to pack, we’ll sleep on the plane,” He muttered.

“We need ta stop drinkin’ together, Hanzo, a man can only take so many hangovers like these ones,” McCree whined.

“We will say we will quit and then drink raw vodka together,” He snorted, “Now, we need to pack.”

But neither of them moved until Hana threatened to pack their things, claiming that she would snoope to her heart’s desire. McCree quickly got up then and he sluggish went to pack his own things, vowing to put off alcohol until this was a funny memory.

Or at least until the alcohol burned away the terrible memories haunting his every thought.

* * *

A message came through that himself, McCree and Soldier 76 were to report to base while Hana and Lucio were to instead head out to meet the Junkers and Reinhardt out in the desert surrounding the city. Apparently Winston had finally convinced the two explosive troublemakers to try some team exercises that did not result in the base being damaged and the three were supposed to keep an eye on them and keep everyone alive. 

“Training with Jamie, Roadie and gramps,” Hana snorted, but with a mischievous trouble seeking imp’s smile, “This should be fun.”

“Should be fun!” Lucio grinned with a heavy sarcastic roll of his eyes as he carried his things to the car they had rented to take them out to where the training was happening. A few miles into pure desert so no one or their property was harmed, or at least enough for a warning shout to be given.

“Safe travels,” McCree said with a tip of his hat before slyly grinning, “Safer practice.”

“Don’t vomit on Lena’s plane, she’ll make you swallow it all again,” Hana taunted.

“Don’t remind me,” McCree groaned before making a beeline for the sweet blessed shade of the plane.

“Watch yourselves,” He said before following McCree. 

Soldier 76 was already sitting with his arms crossed over his chest and glowering in the farthest seat from them. With a sigh he moved to sit across from McCree as the back of the plane closed up and Lena called for them to fasten their seatbelts and hold onto their hindquarters. The blessed shade inside of the plan did wonders for his headache but the tell tale lurch of the plan told him that they would battle instead.

“It is a smart move, making those boy practice in the desert,” He said to make small talk as the plane lurched forward again to take off.

“Better to take out a chunk of wasteland then our base again,” McCree drawled back, hat pulled low over his eyes.

They nodded off for awhile, trying to sleep some of their hangovers off until a deep snarl from Soldier 76 startled him out of his sleep. When he looked over, Soldier 76 had a holo-screen pulled up and looked like he was watching some sort of video, watching it to the end and then angrily replaying it.

Hana, Lucio, the junkers, Reinhardt practicing in the desert as they said they would. Suddenly a jeep entered the field of view and… an explosion frazzled his attention for a moment before he saw Widowmaker and Reaper leep out to start attacking them. Widowmaker acted as a distraction, swinging around on line of hers and taking potshots at everyone as Reaper materialized his shotguns from behind a rock. He stood and… his leg broke apart into smoke and his body toppled without the support. When his body hit the ground half of it broke apart into smoke. After a second of twitching, the rest of him broke apart into smoke and the video was angrily replayed.

“...What’s happening to him?” He asked.

“I don’t fucking know,” Soldier 76 snarled back, “But it’s not good.”

He wondered what could drive a man to be so obsessed with his enemy that when he saw his enemy crumbling, literally in Soldier 76’s case, that he acted more… angry and filled with rage then overjoyed? He wondered about the past that Soldier 76, the vigilante, and Reaper, the ghostly sub-human wraith, could possibly have to cause this sort of obsession. What could have possibly happened to cause all of this?

But it was not his place. 76 and Reaper and the strange relationship between the two was between them. He was a stranger, especially to Overwatch, and it would not be his place to try and insert himself into the struggles of others when he was struggling with his own.

He closed his eyes and let 76 obsess like a man with nothing else to his being, sleeping his own misery off as best he could with Lena’s flying. When he did drift off, he dreamed of wraiths suffering like men, men clutching broken glass hearts, smoking cowboys with predator smiles and bored dragons watching it all like they had seen it all.


	5. It's a Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Soft mutual pining, mentioned character harm/'death', self loathing, briefly mentioned bodily harm, self angst
> 
> It's a date, and despite both of us wanting it to be romantic, let's call it platonic for now
> 
> I'M BACK!!!
> 
> Q:What happened??  
> A: I looked back at this fic and realized how bad it sucked and just how much awful tropey stuff I was writing and well... I hit writer's block so hard there may have been bruises
> 
> Q:Where are half the chapters?!  
> A: I deleted a number of them because the quality and pacing was severely lacking. By starting this up again, I hope to either rewrite them with much higher quality or just replace them with something of better quality, as well as slow down the pacing to something that doesn't give you whiplash from reading it
> 
> Q: Does this mean it's still on hiatus as you figure it all out or...?  
> A: No, we're back to writing chapters! With GWP on hiatus for quality clean up and me being about half way done on a big project, I have leeway to get back on the horse and restart this bad boy up! Though chapters might be spaced out as I use this as an excuse to do quality edits on Boogeyman

Hanzo wanted to fall into comfortable and methodical habits when he returned, but everyone seemed to have heard that he was sociable and suddenly he found his comfortable habits constantly interrupted.

Lucio, McCree and Hana always tried inviting him out to group events, no matter how small and trivial. Anything from board games to beach trips, he was pestered about going to and he either caved in and made himself uncomfortable as everyone eagerly socially engaged around him or found some thin and pathetic excuse to not to and was riddled with immense guilt about afterwards. He tried to get himself to try and enjoy himself, such as he did not mind movies if he sat by himself or next to someone like McCree. But beach events were they wanted him to dress down or boardgame nights with just four of them and he found himself more of a “party downer” than anything else. He would constantly scold himself for every stiffly said word but keep saying them, resulting in a vicious cycle.

Satya took passing pleasantries during tea making to inviting him to her own actual tea times, sitting him down and talking with him over a pot of tea and light snacks. She talked of many light and polite subjects like music, colors, clothing, weather, history, weapon maintenance and sometimes lighter personal questions. He was stiff at first, since they spoke well with each other but lightly, and sometimes snapped at her without meaning too, until he was at least comfortable to realize that she was genuinely trying to spark an amicable relationship between the two of them. Their talk of sexuality, however, was a conversation that left him burning at the ear tips for weeks.

He was actually invited to train with the other operatives a few times, as it seemed they wanted tips and techniques to facing snipers. He declined at first, thinking it was all one giant set-up to prove that he was there to hurt people, but caved with McCree and Hana asked. After that he caved whenever someone asked and simply avoided fatal blows with a stringency that hid most of his true talent. There was an inkling that people knew he was holding back, but no one said anything and he said nothing in return about the plot to ruin him that his own anxiety and paranoia had cooked up.

Angela invited him to the morning group’s jogs and other exercises beforehand instead of inviting him if they found him out and about. It took quite a few invitations to finally make him cave, having to fight the hatred and acid he felt towards the woman for Genji’s current state. He waged a full on war with his own mind to get over the fact that she cybernized Genji. He had to get it through his thick skull that _she was the one that saved him,_ after **he was the one that butchered him.** It took a solid month of fighting himself before he mumbled an agreement to go with them and even when he did he avoided speaking with her and even looking at her.

Then, despite their vow to not binge drink they had in Dorado, McCree and himself often drank until they pretty much blacked out. There was just something comforting about losing all common sense and reason at the end of every bottle. It was as close to being free to be himself as he allowed himself. McCree seemed to like his non judgemental company when he wanted to bury his feelings and his own self loathing at the bottle of the next bottle, something about someone who also liked to kill feelings with alcohol that made him feel better about his own addiction and problem. So they drank together in their usual drinking spot, trying all sorts of liquors and alcohols that they could get their hands on. That specialty bottle of vodka that turned out to be 97% alcohol actually did make them pass out, woken almost twelve hours later when the sun finally hit them and the worst hangover of his life plagued him for three days.

Genji and him… spoke little. In controlled doses, of course. For some reason, the fact that Genji was on good terms with his dragon haunted him and constantly kept a sour taste in his mouth. When they spoke it was always in passing with that Omnic thing there, watching with cold metal slits and those orbs twirling away. There was always a tenseness when he spoke with Genji, feeling the primitive and barbaric hardwired ‘flight of fight’ instinct inside of him go wild inside of his blood whenever he was around his brother. Probably still prepared for Genji to suddenly end his life like he had ended Genji’s life, probably still prepared for that brainwashing he had suffered through to make him finish the job he had both failed and succeeded at.

To be constantly afraid of what someone would do and afraid of your own actions… no wonder he had started going grey before he was thirty.

Genji only brought up the subject of getting along with his dragons through one subtle attempt. Genji asked him to come meditating with his master one morning and casually mentioned that he would likely have his dragon out for practise and to bond with her some more. The dragons rippled underneath his skin at the very thought of being forced to interact with the creatures that had made them so easily heel. He too shuddered through his skin, at the thought of a creature that had thrown his own dragons back at him and left him with such horrendous bone deep pain that he had been without sleep for days after. Needless to say that he never accepted the invitation and tried to gently turn it down only to slip at the last fucking second and snap at Genji. He profusely apologized of course, but Genji never extended the invitation again.

 _Worthless bastard, fucking asshole, you already maimed the man and forever changed his life, now you cannot stop being a heartless dick to him,_ He kept repeating to himself as he replayed the conversation over and over in his head. _Less than worthless wretch, idiot, fool._

He got drunk the night of the conversation and he woke up to McCree hauling him to his room. He threw up in the hallway, narrowly avoiding making a mess of McCree’s boots, but McCree just laughed and told him that he still had good aim even ‘skunk drunk’. McCree dragged him to his room, managing to get his code out of his heavily slurred words and attempts to say it, before dragging him inside. When McCree tried to pull his Gi off, he smacked the man’s hands away.

“You will not undress me so easy, cowman,” He had slurred.

“Ha, just tryin’ to get you outta your vomit stained silky shirt, Hanzo,” McCree had chuckled.

He was hard pressed to realize that McCree was right and pulled it off before attempting to wobble to the shower only to be stopped by McCree.

“You’ll drown, just lie down for now, Hanzo.”

He said something before face planting on his bed on the ground. When he woke up again, he had an awful migraine, sour stomach, five alarm heartburn and felt like sleeping for another three days. On the ground just outside of arm’s reach was a glass of water, four pills and a note in a bold script telling him to drink the water and take the pills, two painkillers and two hangover helpers, and telling him to ‘be careful for now on’ with a silly stenson in the corner. He decided that McCree was the best man in the world before taking the pills and sleeping the rest of the day away.

Life continued that way.

* * *

A quiet afternoon to himself, finally. Most everyone was already busy doing something, whether it be their own plans or out on a mission. With no one trying to make him be social, he took his comm device, earbuds, bow and a lot of arrows to one of the training ranges and set to giving himself some quiet time keeping his aim as impeccable as ever.

The rhythmic fall of targets soothed his mind, becoming an almost mechanical drum as he notched an arrow, aimed and let the arrow fly to take down one of the targets no matter the distance. His breathing and heartbeat were even and steady, his mind dulled and hyperfocused on the task on hand. Everything was calm and perfect.

“You’ve been getting along rather well with McCree, don’t you think, brother?”

His notched arrow went flying broad and accidently hit the wall instead of the floating targets. Teeth grinding together, he quickly turned on his heel and faced Genji, who was laid out on the table that he had set his arrows, chin in his hands and legs innocently kicking away. Every muscle locked and every instinct immediately set ‘flight’ at the sight of his brother. For a moment he thought he was going to run, only to realize that he was frozen on the spot as he realized that it was _just_ himself and Genji.

“...yes,” He muttered, feeling his stomach churn. Was Genji not afraid of him? To be alone with him?

“I always knew you two would get along! Jesse’s too much of a charmer for his own good,” Genji chuckled playfully.

Despite the lighthearted conversation, he felt like his life was on the line and this was some ruse that would lead to a showdown like the one he had had with his brother when he realized that he was still alive. Why was his brother not afraid of him attacking him? Why was he the only one afraid of hurting Genji? Was this nothing to him? Why was he not taking this more seriously?!

_Just like when they were boys…_

“Though I have to say, you two are getting along better than I had thought,” Genji noted. “I know it’s not my place but… are you interested in him? Perhaps?”

Strom bow’s shaft groaned underneath his white knuckle grip and he realized that he was going to crush it from his death grip alone if he did not loosen his fingers.

_Much like he had done to the handle of his sword after slaughtering his beloved baby brother. Fingers squeezing so tight that fragile bones and iron hardwood broke like dry matchsticks. The metal had warped underneath the grip, coupled with an edge that had been chipped and dulled on sweet Genji’s spine, blood and flesh, the sword had been rent useless._

_His hand had almost been rent useless as well, because even when he had crushed the handle to splints and a raw tang, he kept squeezing and squeezing until bone broke skin and his hand was a mess of wood ships and bone fragments and so much oozing blood. Coupled with the severe mental trauma and it had been months before he could even twitch his fingers on his own accord._

“Ah, so I guess I’m bugging you because I want to say I approve I guess?” Genji shrugged, “Uh… have fun?”

“...I am not seeing McCree,” Hanzo spat before realizing what had done. He swallowed, choked and shook his head before speaking much more softly. “We are drinking friends, nothing more. I...”

Hanzo had not thought Jesse like that. Jesse certainly was an attractive man in every sense of the word and certainly a good man but… Hanzo had cut himself off from that a lot time ago. There was no room for romance on the run and while he was with the clan, his father had made it explicitly clear that he was not allowed to seek anything other than family approved, marriage bound relationships. Now after all these years, Hanzo had far too many personal problems involving himself and his twisted sense of relationships to try anything… much less with a good man like McCree.

“Oh well, you making friends is a wonderful thing, Hanzo,” Genji said, reaching out and brushing his fingers along Hanzo’s shoulder. 

His felts felt cold and metallic against his bare skin and for a moment he was unsure if he was going to break down screaming or vomit for a week despite how gentle they were. Dead fingers, machine’s fingers, fingers he had butchered, part of a body he had maimed, part of a person that he had loved so much and then just butchered like a fat pig to the slaughter. _This is the brother you slaughter like a pig you fucking worthless piece of shit, the brother you loved so much trying to be civil with a lawless degenerate like you. This is **your brother trying to have fun with you, you fucking piece of shit, why aren’t you happy!?**_

_CRACK!_

“HANZO!”

* * *

“...Howdy pardner, heard you had a rough day,” McCree said.

Hanzo barely looked up at the cowboy, just stared at the sunset. McCree sat heavily down next to him, giving him a smile as he tossed his cigar off the edge of the ledge. The dropping sun set the world ablaze with warm hues of orange, yellows and reds, McCree no exception, his already warm palette intensified with already burning hues. It made him look warmly ethereal, comfortable spirit, warmer than normal.

“Your hand hurtin’ any, Hanzo?” McCree asked, motioning to his heavily bandaged hand, still numb from the painkillers.

“...no,” He muttered, glancing down at the pristine white bandages, “That… Dr. Ziegler did her best.”

His grip had shattered Storm bow’s shaft and a large wooden chip had stabbed right through his palm and had come out the other side of his hand. Genji had rushed him to the doctor where a scuffle had ensued as he tried to get away from her and it had become glaringly apparent that he was terrified of and hated her. It finally took being held down by that German beast of a man, Reinhardt, before the wooden spike could be ripped free from his hand and then the healing to commence. 

By then he had caused such a scene that he could not force himself to be around anyone. The thin excuse of friendship that he had been trying to build between his brother, the doctor and Reinhardt was likely shredded and gone. No man would have fought so hard with a mauled hand to get away from someone that was trying to help. Not without fear, not without hatred, not without dark feelings fueling the motions. 

Now he had exposed himself as a skin bag of turmoil and general awful excuse for a use of air and space.

“...Torbjorn said he could fix your bow, could take a bit though,” McCree said, drawing him from his violent self loathing, “He’s not used to workin’ on wood but he said that she’ll be just as strong as before.”

“I...I will thank him… later,” He rasped.

“Take your time,” McCree said with a nod, that warm face nothing but understanding and gentleness.

He was reminded of his conversation with Genji before, how his brother had thought he was interested in McCree. He thought about it… and perhaps he was. McCree was a good man, a kind man, a rather not bad looking man, one that he genuinely enjoyed spending time with and felt like one that would respect him if he were to reveal the ugly scars that marked his body and mind. 

But in this was the problem with his possible attraction to this man.

McCree was too good for a man like him. McCree had his faults, he knew that he had a dark past that haunted him. No man drank and smoke like McCree did without a few dark mistakes that haunted their sleeping hours. But McCree was dealing with it more than a hundred times better than he was, he was putting himself together day in and day out so much more than he was. Someone like McCree, who had enough on his mind, it would be unfair to try and put himself there as well.

No… even if there was something there… he was unworthy of anything that could be returned if there was anything.

“Hey Hanzo, you wanna hang out tonight?” McCree asked, “Not getting blind stinkin’ drunk or nothin’, just somethin’ for the two of us. And to get you off base for a bit.”

“...I would like that.”

“Great! Bring somethin’ casual or at least comfortable and meet me outside tonight. Eight o’clock!”

* * *

[Overwatch Channel: We’re all meme loving fucks now]

[PM from GENJI to JESSE: Yo, cowboy fucker]  
[PM from JESSE to GENJI: sup robo-nerd >=P]  
[PM from GENJI to JESSE: You the reason my brother has not immediately locked himself in a hut for a month?]  
[PM from JESSE to GENJI: i invited him out fer a bit just gunna go out and hit up the small seaside town a couple miles inland]  
[PM from JESSE to GENJI: junkfood, scenic view, stuff like that]  
[PM from GENJI to JESSE: I can’t believe you’re taking my brother on a nice date]  
[PM from GENJI to JESSE: A really nice date >__>]  
[PM from JESSE to GENJI: it’s not a date :p just some r&r fer him]  
[PM from JESSE to GENJI: sides i don’t think han sqings that way]  
[PM from GENJI to JESSE: not sure about sqings…]  
[PM from JESSE to GENJI: fuck you]  
[PM from GENJI to JESSE: But as far as I know him, he is definitely not straight]  
[PM from GENJI to JESSE: So don’t lead him on, you adorkable cowboy fucker]  
[PM from JESSE to GENJI: lead him on...genji… do you think i’m straight?]  
[PM from GENJI to JESSE: Statistically speaking it is a possibility]  
[PM from JESSE to GENJI: statistically speaking i am the gayest man you know]  
[PM from JESSE to GENJI: second only to ol’ reyes]  
[PM from GENJI to JESSE: Oh shit… how the fuck did I not pick up on that?!?]  
[PM from JESSE to GENJI: not that i broadcast it er nuthin]  
[PM from JESSE to GENJI: i mean i’m not ashamed of it er nuthin but you can’t always predict people’s reactions and all that fun shit]  
[PM from GENJI to JESSE: Oh well... Enjoy your date with my brother<3]  
[PM from JESSE to GENJI: it’s not a date, i don’t think i’m hanzo’s type anywho]  
[PM from JESSE to GENJI: wouldn’t mind though, yer brother is a very handsome man]  
[PM from GENJI to JESSE: … gtfo]  
[PM from JESSE to GENJI: ???]

[PM from GENJI to ALL -HANZO -JESSE: QUICK I NEED NICE THINGS FOR MY BROTHER TO WEAR TONIGHT THIS IS A CODE RED ORANGE YELLOW GREEN INDIGO VIOLET]  
[PM from GENJI to ALL -HANZO -JESSE: TWO GAY IDIOTS IN LOVE AND NOT AWARE OF THE OTHER BEING IN LOVE WITH THEM]  
[PM from GENJI to ALL -HANZO -JESSE: QUICK I NEED TO MAKE MY WALKING DISASTER OF A BROTHER LOOK HOT FOR JESSE]

* * *

At eight o’clock, Hanzo was outside and waiting for McCree to come meet him there.

He had fretted for a time over his appearance, wondering what he was supposed to wear that was comfortable and presentable to the public. A Gi was normally frowned upon outside of Japan, even without his gear, so he was at a loss for what to wear that would not make him stick out like a sore thumb. He had almost give up and worn his exercising gear out of sheer desperation before a knock at the door drew his attention away from his fretting.

Outside the door had been a box of… clothing. When he looked through it, he realized it was clothing that was his size and there was a note hidden within the fabric. A foreign stroke told him that it was a gift with a rather mischievous winking smiley in the corner. After inspecting the clothing thoroughly, he realized then that someone had probably found out that he was living base for a short time with McCree. Probably Genji. If he were a betting man his money would be on Genji, anyway.

He dragged the clothing inside and chose a respectable outfit out of his suddenly expanded wardrobe.

A black t-shirt with a wolf head graphic on the front, some decent denim jeans, a pair of black boots. There were some fingerless gloves inside the box as well he very gently tugged one over his bandaged hand, hiding some of the bandages. There was a decent zip-up jacket with a rather fluffy fur collar that he decided to wear as well, mostly to hide what the t-shirt did not of his tattoo.

When Hanzo stood in the mirror to examine himself, he was almost shocked when he saw that he looked… normal. Tired, anxious and slightly twitchy sure, but he looked like a normal man. If he just… he pulled the hair ribbon from his dark locks and let them fall around his jaw and… there. He looked like a normal man about to go out with his good friend. He looked… human.

He had gone outside with a sliver of an ego and almost eager to leave, or perhaps his mind was just eager for something to get his mind off of the complete disaster that had been but a few hours ago.

When McCree showed up, the man had cleaned up as well. Though he was still wearing the Stetson, but his hair was obviously washed and brushed. He wore a simple red button-up shirt and a nice pair of slacks and boots and the tacky belt buckle replaced with a very normal and presentable one. He looked like a soft, Southern gentlemen ready for a night on the town and for a moment he felt… sort of flushed looking at him. 

It seemed that realizing that he felt something for McCree was going to make this… slightly awkward.

“Ready to go?” McCree grinned, to which he nodded and followed after the man into the darkening night.

* * *

They had walked along the road a bit before hitching a ride with a wayward bus. After the bus they had hoped on a truck with some drunk college kids that took a liking to McCree. They were enamored with McCree’s personality and somehow they had gone from just getting a ride to the bus circuit to an actual ride into town just because of a few jokes and stories on Jesse’s behalf. A few offered some beers too, but McCree politely declined for the both of them, saying they had plans to ‘paint the town red’.

When they arrived in town, smelling faintly of cheap beer, McCree wished their rowdy group well before beckoning him to follow.

“What… exactly does ‘paint the town red’ mean?” He asked, “We are not committing mass homicide, are we?”

“Nah, just some dumb stuff,” McCree grinned over his shoulder, “Come on, follow me.”

The first stop was this small shop that McCree swore by, run by a few spunky young girls putting themselves through culinary school. Though what they sold, McCree refused to divulge until they got there and when they got to the place, a very small and colorfully decorated little parlor barely the size of a small garage, he realized that McCree's definition of 'spunky young girls' needed to be seriously revised.

Three women only a handful of years younger than the two of them, took turns operating a very large flat grill, masterfully thin slicing various ingredients and one operated the cash register. If one was not setting fire to whatever was on the grill, the other was making a circus act out of handling the knives and the one at the cashregister was wooing whomever approached and made money disappear faster than any thief he had known.

"They don't bite," McCree said as he pulled him forward to join the long line despite the hour, "And a knife only goes flyin' once in a blue moon."

That did not put Hanzo’s mind to ease.

When they finally approached the cashregister, the rather tall woman behind the counter loudly greeted McCree in... some language that he did not understand but McCree understood apparently. The woman cooed something, reaching over the counter to pinch McCree's cheek friendly like and tipped his hat back to see his face better. After a moment of the two bantering back and forth, him completely lost between McCree's accent and whatever the woman was speaking, before McCree handed over some bills and moved along the line.

"Gotta ask her to slow down sometime, her accent gets thick whenever she comes home from vacation," McCree laughed.

If it was an accent he did not want to know. But there was something that he did want to know.

"You act as though you have been here before," Hanzo pointed out, "It is my understanding that we are encouraged to not leave the base unless we are on missions."

"Ah... yeah, that..." McCree grinned sheepishly, scrubbing the back of his neck with his metallic fingers. "Listen, man like me? I'm not used to bein' in one place for long, I gotta move around, gotta be ready for anythin'. I figured I'd see the neighbors a couple months back and work on relations and all that."

"Anything of note, besides this place that will perhaps star in one of my nightmares?" He replied with a heavy glower at the woman now casually juggling knives.

"Most of the people in town either personally knew Overwatch members or were there to witness the fall. The general opinion is that something else was goin' on behind the scenes and Overwatch was the victim," McCree rattled off. "There are a few vocal assholes, but they're far and few and generally hushed pretty quick. Most everyone in town are artisans or average people, only 13 have any gun training and 12 of those are hunters, one of those is paranoid and got himself some shitty gun training from ‘ _a guy that knows a guy_ '."

They moved in line, McCree tipping his hat at the woman handling the knives.

"The only sort of weaponry in town is one shitty 10mm hand pistol and the mechanic Omnic and her torch. Besides that is the small police station's standard issue handguns but those get rarely discharged. There's one service dog that's trained to dissuade certain people from his owner, but it's very minor and again a rare case."

McCree waited with him at the end of the line, waiting for their order to be freed from the fires of these strange women’s grill.

“This town could be taken out with a well trained and modestly equipped squad of eight. I could tell you where to drop them so that they would never be seen, I could tell you where to drop them so the biggest scene could be caused, I could tell you how people were react, I could tell ya exactly how to do it so that you take this town without injury, bullet spent and within four hours at most. One if you want to kill everyone. You can’t do that stuck on a base with people you’re supposed to watch the backs of, you can’t do that surrounded by people who you’re supposed to help keep alive.”

Whatever it was that McCree ordered was handed over in a styrofoam box, utensils, napkins and all wrapped up in a plastic bag with a wink from the girl who still had two butchers knives in their hands. He followed McCree outside and away from the shop for a bit, towards a small area with benches and tables meant for people to stop.

McCree… always thought of these things. A thousand ways to get out of any situation, how to do it in several dozen ways from easy to messy. How to take down an entire town by being a friendly face, by talking with locals and getting them to divulge the little details that would lead to their end. McCree’s natural charisma was more than part of a charming being, but whatever training McCree had received in his earlier years, the ‘harmless’ man with a sunshine smile was really the deadliest man alive and used wrong first impressions to his deadly advantage. McCree thought of these things and that was why he left, to stop thinking of such things with the operatives on base and at least give himself a moment to think.

Perhaps this was not just for his own fragile mental stake, but his as well. It was foolish of him, but he had thought of McCree so well put together since he could smile and seem to be happy. Now he saw that McCree was perhaps as broken as he was and for a moment, his heart ached to think of such a good man like McCree hurting...

“You are a terrifying man, McCree,” He said quietly, “Despite having full respect for your skills, I am always surprised at the depth and sheer magnitude of them. You are a very skilled man and I am glad to fight by your side rather than against you.”

McCree quietly tipped his hat, leaving nothing but a glimmer of clever teeth showing. Clever teeth of a hunter, not a fool. No… never the fool. Jesse McCree could never have been a fool in his life, he had to always have been this terrifyingly clever, this incredibly intelligent, this quick, smart and quick thinking. The only way that Jesse McCree would be considered a fool if he was putting on the guise to trick his foes--

Right before shooting them, dead eye.

“What did you get, by the way?” Hanzo asked as McCree eagerly undid the the box, revealing a rather delicious smelling pile of cooked meat and vegetable slices.

“Those sweethearts’ interpretation of stir-fry,” McCree grinned, “Swear to you, your tastebuds will sing and you’ll want nothin’ else.”

He doubted that but he tried a bite anyway.

“...”

“Don’t worry, Hanzo, we’ll get you some leftovers to have on our way back, they’re a third shift shop. Though I insist, if we do, you gotta try some of the sugary junk food around here too.”

“...You drive a hard bargain, cowboy. Deal.”

* * *

[Overwatch Channel: GAY]

GENJI: Gdi, ONE OF YOU LOSER MAKE A MOVE  
LUCIO: D-do you think they’re playing gay chicken without realizing it?  
GENJI: I hope not, my brother needs something nice in his life  
GENJI: !  
GENJI: OH COME ON! QUITE GIVING HIM THE WISTFUL LOOK!  
GENJI: KISS HIM YOU FUCKING IDIOT  
LUCIO: Man, this is gonna be a loooong night  
LUCIO: @HANA you having fun?  
HANA: No, we can’t make these two stupid idiots fumble because Hanzo’s a fucking ninja  
HANA: And McCree has weird cowboy reflexes…  
HANA: Ugh  
HANA: @SATYA how’s the base?  
SATYA: Why are you two trying to set up these two men?  
HANA: uuuhhh  
GENJI: ….  
LUCIO: Well you see..  
SATYA: If you say they are as attracted to each other as you think they are then things will occur naturally. Eventually they will realize that they have something for each other and express romantic/sexual interest in each other. Forcing it can only make things stressful or unhealthy for them.  
HANA: Girl, keep it to single sentences this chat wasn’t made for walls of text  
HANA: Also, I just wanted to know what was up with the base ;__;  
SATYA: … The base is fine.  
HANA: THERE THAT’S IT  
HANA: NO MORE NO LESS  
SATYA: I must insist though, Hanzo is my friend and I don’t want you lot pressuring him into anything.  
HANA: .. fuck she’s got a point  
GENJI: Alright we’re stop  
LUCIO: They make a good match, ya gotta admit  
SATYA: I will admit to that, yes. But again. Do not hurt my friend.  
HANA: Alright, pull back, let the two have their date :T  
GENJI: MMMMMPARKOUR  
HANA: DUDE CAREFUL WE CAN’T GET CAUGHT

* * *

“And this is a churro,” Jesse said, ripping a piece off and popping it into his mouth. Bits of cinnamon and sugar stuck to his lips and beard as he savored the treat before handing it over to Hanzo to tear a bite out of. Hanzo did not care for the grit of the cinnamon and sugar, but the dough center was surprisingly pleasant. He tore off another piece, much to Jesse’s delight.

“Are you just going to make me try all this junk food?” Hanzo asked, savoring the treat regardless.

“Hey, it’s a night off, why not have a little fun and let loose?” Jesse grinned as they walked to get another junk food stand, but not after polishing off the last little bit of churro. The next booth had something called ‘elephant ears’, something that looked like a flat version of a churro to be honest, flakier texture. Jesse ended up eating most of it before they moved on, walking past a few closed shops and a few third shift shops opening their doors for their nightly business. It seemed that despite the town’s small size, it ran around the clock.

“You havin’ fun, Hanzo?” Jesse asked him.

“I am enjoying myself, yes,” Hanzo said, carefully easing his injured hand into his pocket.

“That’s good, I know you’ve had a rough ride the past couple of days and… figured you could use the break,” Jesse said.

“My thanks,” Hanzo smiled.

Again Hanzo thought of what Genji said… about his interest in McCree. Perhaps there was… something there. A crush perhaps, and a crush certainly was harmless unless shared. There were perhaps far too many obstacles in the way, for him personally, to act on it so it would remain a small and harmless thought in his head. Who knew, perhaps McCree would move on or he would move on and they could go about their lives… maybe McCree would admit to one too, however unlikely. For now at least, they were two friends taking a breather and eating junk food and enjoying an uneventful night.

For now… this was more than enough for him.

“Okay, you _gotta_ try this,” Jesse said, stopping them at a funnel cake stand. “With ice cream.”

“Alright, alright,” Hanzo laughed.


	6. Agitating Ghosts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Implied feelings on McCree's part towards Hanzo, emotional confusion, mentioned past character 'death' and harm, briefly alluded to body horror
> 
> Trying to slow down the pace is agonizing but it's a skill I need to work on so I'm toughing it out ;__;

Hanzo was loathe to admit but...he realized that he had a hard time differentiating between feelings. Or… no, the more accurate way of putting was that Hanzo could not tell platonic from romantic feelings that came from him or if someone was expressing platonic or romantic feelings towards him. It was something that he pondered as he tried to ponder how he felt about Jesse.

Hanzo had never really been given a chance to develop close personal bonds in his ancestral home. Sojiro had isolated Hanzo as much as the man could, to control who Hanzo interacted with and try and groom how Hanzo would react to people and certain things. Even after Hanzo had left and gone on the run, it was too dangerous to start to try and work those skills that he had never had a chance to develop. Sure there were contacts and people that helped him, but nothing beyond a working relationship.

Now that he was not on the run and was being given the chance to develop friendships… it was hard to tell what from what because everything was new and strange and… Hanzo was floundering. Thankfully, at least in Hanzo’s mind, with how open everyone was about themselves and their identities, it was easy to quickly kill or school his emotions one way if he felt like the line between friendship and something more was blurred and straying into ‘wrong’ territory. Though it did not do much in the long run, as it was still hard to tell between the two for him, especially as he found himself starting to, once again, make friends in his coworkers.

Satya, Lucio and Hana were easy to quash, with Satya and Hana being lesbians and Hana being far, **far** too young for him and Lucio once again being far too young for him. They helped a little in helping him find that line that was so blurred in his mind, since he found that he did just genuinely enjoy their company and nothing more. 

Satya was a likewise rational and logic driven mind whom it was Hanzo’s great joy to speak with at length about intellectual matters. Music, weapon maintenance, hard light theory, the proper and best way to make tea, Hanzo enjoyed their talks and Satya herself was a likeable person with a rare sense of humor. But Hanzo was relieved that his feelings never went beyond that. 

Lucio was a kind man, genuinely caring and thoughtful. And while they hardly spoke one on one, when they did Lucio seemed to understand what topics to avoid to avoid making Hanzo shut down or rile him up and when he was straying into uncomfortable territory with Hanzo. But again, Hanzo enjoyed his company and him as a person, but he was almost completely sure that he only considered Lucio a friend. 

Hana he often spoke at length with, enjoying her war stories and her stream stories, even joining her for some video games and once or twice as an off screen and silent player two to her streams. Hana had indeed taken note from their rather poor conversation on the plane and spoke of lighter things with Hanzo, and while their conversations sometimes steered towards darker topics, those were eased into gently enough that they both were comfortable speaking on the matter. But again, Hanzo was completely sure that he only thought of Hana as a friend, nothing more.

Hanzo wished his feelings towards McCree were as easy to tell.

Hanzo knew that he liked the man on a personal level and that he liked speaking with McCree and socializing with him. McCree was just a warm, inviting and charismatic man with an enjoyable sense of humor and with razor sharp wits. Drinking with the man, talking with the man, enjoying the man’s company, not to mention Hanzo knew he found McCree attractive and just his… everything. But… did he just really like this man on a friendship level or was he pining as his brother suggested? Sure Hanzo enjoyed McCree’s company and felt slightly robbed when the man was away or unable to speak for whatever reason but… was that romantic feelings or just strong friendship?

It was a thought that Hanzo kept simmering in the back of his mind, devoting quiet moments to solving it. Hanzo tried to… well he tried to make friends with the people that he was struggling with in the meantime.

Angela was… hard to approach, Hanzo thought, more so than the others. Though that was more his mind’s misguided anger towards her more than anything. He knew that he was the one to blame for Genji’s current state and he should be angry at himself and Angela was the one that saved his brother. While it was noted that some of Genji’s combat geared prosthetics and features were at the hard push of Overwatch and Angela’s scientific curiosity, Angela did save Genji from the damage done by Hanzo’s hand. He hoped by getting to know her more that he could get that fact across his thick skull. So Hanzo exchanged pleasantries with the woman, joined her and the group for morning jogging and sometimes listened to her half asleep chatting if they happened to meet in the kitchen. They did have a very strange conversation about removing ink and blood stains from clothing once and then Angela was very loathe to bring it up again.

Genji… gods did he want to salvage his relationship with his brother but there was just so much of his personal… well bullshit in the way that he did not think it possible. Hanzo just… panicked whenever Genji was around him and being alone with him was a sure way to give himself a panic attack. Hanzo was once again forced to try and get through his thick skull that someone else had helped his brother after he had harmed him in order to approach that... that Master Zenyatta for aid. It was th-- it was Master Zenyatta that had been there to help soothe the wounds of Genji’s mind after _he_ had been the one to so savagely scar his brother’s mind, after all. Whatever god like patience that Zenyatta had seemed to extend to Hanzo as well, despite Hanzo’s crime against the Omnic’s most beloved person and Zenyatta agreed to try and be with Genji when the the two brother attentively tried speaking. It would be a long and laborious task but… it was started and it was said that the first step was always the hardest. 

Hanzo had to get over this misguided anger he had towards everyone that helped his brother, it was… bad for his own mental health and bad for his brother and bad for the people that honestly helped. While there was never any easy way to dissolve anger, Hanzo felt that at least recognizing that he had a problem with it was a good step towards… something. Perhaps not true healing, because Hanzo felt himself too old to let go of something of the things he clutched towards his blackened and broken heart but… at least recovering something from his life. Not letting his father and his twisted family win even when most of them were dead.

Spite was a hell of a productive drug.

* * *

“Howdy, archer,” McCree grinned at Hanzo.

It had been just after Hanzo had come inside from exercising and then after he showered and dressed for the day. It was still rather early in the day and McCree had not joined them for jogging, so Hanzo was a little surprised to see him up so early in the day, but happy to see him regardless. Hanzo grabbed the tin of coffee that McCree drank from the shelf and handed it off for McCree to burn into strong black coffee.

“Thank ya kindly,” McCree smiled as he started his morning drink.

“It is earlier than I normally see you, and Dr. Ziegler did not take you out to jog,” Hanzo noted while starting to brew his cup of tea for his breakfast. “Are you well?”

“Oh yeah, just one of the mornings,” McCree hummed as the behemoth clunker coffee machine started rumbling away. Hanzo never understood the need for it until he realized that several Overwatch operativers were heavily addicted too and reliant on caffeine.

“Just one of those mornings?” Hanzo mimicked.

“Didn’t sleep well but not because of nightmares or nothin’,” McCree shrugged. “Figured I’d take advantage.”

“That is a relief,” Hanzo said as he turned his attention to his drink. “I know that sleeplessness due to nightmares is difficult.”

“Yeah, they’re a bitch,” McCree chuckled, making Hanzo snort with laughter. “Winston said he might have a mission tonight, though didn’t say much about it, so I was goin’ to see if anyone wanted to do anythin’ before then.”

“I am free, if you wish for my company,” Hanzo said.

“Mighty kind of ya, Hanzo,” McCree smiled. The heavy smell of mostly burnt coffee filtered through the kitchen, indicating that McCree’s morning drink was done. Hanzo did not really care for the smell, but after more than a few mornings of sharing the kitchen with McCree while he made it, the smell was not nearly as heinous as it had been previously. “Think we might crash in the rec room with a couple of others. Hana mentioned wantin’ to play truth or dare as a ‘fun’ and ‘not mean’ team buildin’ exercise.”

“Truth of dare?”

“It’s a game, basically a group of people challenge one another to tell a truth or take a dare. There’s plenties that can happen, but it’s supposed to be a lot better than that one thing we tried in chat. Anyway, just supposed to be fun if you want to do it.”

“It’s not going to be rude like that other one?”

“Nope, Hana stressed that.”

“Very well, I will participate, though I will put my foot down on certain things.”

“Hanzo, my amigo, I think we all have that line we’re gonna draw,” McCree laughed.

They chatted and drank for a bit, McCree shooting off texts about the possible light plans for the afternoon. Apparently there were some people that agreed too, because McCree eventually got up and nodded towards the rec room. Hanzo ended up grabbing a water bottle for the both of them as they walked there, Hanzo surprised that quite a few people showed up. Dr. Zhou, Genji, Zenyatta (thankfully), Hana and Lucio and even Satya.

“Good afternoon, Mr. McCree and Shimada-san,” Mei grinned at them.

“Mei, hun, I told you that you can call me Jesse,” McCree grinned as himself and Hanzo joined the ring of people sitting on the ground.

“I know,” Mei chuckled softly.

“Good morning, Dr. Zhou,” Hanzo said to her, “You don’t need to use an honorfix with me. You may address me as Hanzo.”

“Oh!” Mei perked up, visibly brightening at this. “Okay, Hanzo.”

McCree nudged him, making him grunt before smirking at him. McCree liked to playfully nudge Hanzo about making friends. It was one of the little things that they ribbed each other over.

“Hey guys, we’re gonna use a bottle,” Hana said, holding up an empty green glass bottle before setting it on its side in the middle of the circle, “But no spin the bottle.”

“Aww,” Mei giggled, getting a playful shove from Hana.

“So you spin the bottle, who it lands on you challenge truth or dare and let them pick. If they chicken out of both they’re out of the game,” Hana explained. “And this is supposed to be fun, so no being a dick. I start!”

So they started the game. They started out gentle, everyone trying to figure out what people were comfortable with, mostly starting with ‘Truth’ or some very gentle ‘Dares’ with such things like touching a finger to the nose or poking the person next to them. A far cry from their previous attempt at team building.

The first bold move came from Hana.

“Genji!” Hana grinned when the bottle stopped before Genji. “Alright, I choose truth. I have to know.... Do you choose to walk around basically naked or…?”

“Oh my god!” Genji snapped though giggling, “I’m not naked when I have my carbon fiber armor on! It’s just aerodynamic and makes it easier to move. And I’m not ashamed of my body, so why cover it?”

Right now Genji was devoid of most of his armor, except the bits that Hanzo realized that Genji could probably not removing. Two prosthetic legs and one prosthetic arm, some armor like plating perhaps along the lower jaw that made Hanzo think that part of the lower jaw might have been replaced. When Genji laughed at Hana’s playfully disappointed huff, Hanzo saw that some of his lower teeth were strangely white and looked molded, suggesting that some teeth had been replaced with some sort of ceramic or likewise material.

Hanzo looked away before his mind went to dark and blood stained memories.

They started getting a bit more daring with their challenges. Nothing really interesting though, nothing to worry about.

“Ha!” Hana laughed as the bottle landed spout first towards Hanzo. “I got a dare for you, bro.”

“Well… let us hear it,” Hanzo grumbled, slightly leery.

“Kiss McCree,” Hana grinned devilishly.

Hanzo pondered that for a moment. It was not terrible but Jesse was turning red as his serape as everyone seemed to have eyes on the two of them.

“You heard her!” Mei giggled, poking McCree’s shoulder.

“N-now you hush,” McCree sputtered, turning towards her.

“Come now, she did not give specifics,” Hanzo said, leaning in to give McCree a simple peck on the cheek. Hana had just said a kiss and did not specify where, so it would count and based on the lack of protests to him pointing that out, Hana just wanted to see them squirm mostly rather then see the dare carried out.

“Yeah but-!” McCree turned his head and ended up getting the kiss on his nose. Hanzo pulled away, watching McCree’s face for any sign of discomfort.

“McCree?” Hanzo asked.

McCree fell over, red to his ear tips and stars in his eyes.

“Man down, man down! Hanzo killed a man with gayness!” Hana laughed with the rest of the group.

“Are you alright, McCree?” Hanzo asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” McCree sighed dreamily with a drowsy smile on his face.

“You… enjoyed that,” Hanzo stated more than asked.

“Very,” McCree sighed dreamily.

Well now, now Hanzo was blushing. Instead of lingering on that, Hanzo turned back to the bottle to take his turn. And as if a cruel twist of fate, it landed on McCree, who immediately sat straight up and blushed anew.

“So the truth, did you really enjoy that?” Hanzo asked attentively.

“Very,” McCree blushed.

It was left at that, but it was something for Hanzo to ponder, watching McCree spin the bottle to land on Genji and start tormenting him to entertain himself.

* * *

Winston did indeed have a job for them, later in the evening after their game had ended on a high note. Th- Master Zenyatta was told that telling someone that he only wears pants to hide his giant robot genitalia was not appropriate monk speech, though through Genji’s wailing and crying laughter. It had made Hanzo laugh as well, enough to make him snort like he hated but he kept laughing regardless.

“Now, you might be wondering why I have the team that I have,” Winston said to their small group. It consisted of Hanzo, Jesse, Genji and Master Zenyatta. A very small team and not exactly balanced considering their skills. “I need a small and strike team capable of getting into the target location. The location is believed to be an old Blackwatch safehouse--”

Hanzo could not hope but notice McCree flinched at ‘Blackwatch’ and was now looking down at his hands as his thumbs twiddled irritably. McCree’s eyes also went distant, lost.

“--now being used by Talon. Talon operatives were spotted there in the past few days but have stopped now.”

To further his point, Winston pulled up a number of pictures on his display, several photos of what looked like a boarded up building on a busy street. There were several photos of agents prying open the door and entering or leaving, all dressed in black gear.

“Get out, find out everything that there is left there, and then get out. We don’t want Talon to know we’re onto some of their lesser operations,” Winston said. “Don’t linger. No more than a few hours at most, I cannot stress this enough.”

“Yes, Winston,” Genji said.

“Of course.”

“Understood,” Hanzo said before looking towards to McCree, who still seemed distant. However, Winston just nodded towards McCree before swiping the photos off his screen and shooting them towards their comms. “Your planes leaves tonight. Remember, speed is key.”

They were dismissed, McCree needing a nudge to realize that the meeting was over. Even then, he stood before coldly walking over to Winston. It was a terrifying and slow walk, stiff and straight and completely soundless even with McCree’s jangly cowboy bits, the strut of a killer. Winston must have taken note, because the big scientist was stiff for the first time that Hanzo had ever seen when addressing someone.

“Blackwatch deserves to rest in it’s grave,” McCree drawled out thick and slow, anger a clear thunder like rumble in his voice.

“I’m not asking you to upset old ghosts, just see why these people are,” Winston said carefully, obviously trying to avoid provoking McCree more.

“...Fine,” McCree snapped before turning harshly and storming out of the room. 

Hanzo thought for a moment and started to trail after him, making his foot falls loud enough for McCree to hear him. Either McCree did not hear him still or was not against Hanzo following him, storming through the base, cutting through hallways and stomping up stairwells until they reached a familiar door. The door that lead to their usual drinking spot. McCree punched in the code to unlock said door and shoved the door open but stopping it before it could slam in Hanzo’s face, holding it open like a gentlemen as Hanzo slipped out and then letting the door shut behind them.

They went up the slightly dodgy metal staircase to the rooftop that they frequented. McCree wandered over the the railing that normally kept their drunken selves from plummeting to their deaths, quickly and jerkingly emptying his pockets and turning up his lighter and mostly crushed box of what he assumed to be McCree’s choice of smokes. Hanzo choose the side of McCree that was up breeze from the smoke, just standing there and listening to McCree angrily smoke through two of his cigarettes.

“Tell me if I need to leave you with your thoughts,” Hanzo said after McCree had let the exhausted filter fall from his fingers and down the length of the building.

“Leavin’ me with them will just make me ditch the mission,” McCree sighed.

“... I will listen, if you wish to speak,” Hanzo offered softly.

“... “ McCree lit up another cigarette and blew out an angry cloud before sighing deeply, defeated. “Did you know that Overwatch… had a black ops division? The person that did the dark and gritty deeds to actually get shit done for Overwatch?”

“No.”

“They did… and I got conscripted to join them at seventeen. It was that or rottin’ in a slammer for the rest of my life with no chance of parole,” McCree sighed. “And… it’s not around anymore but how it died? Left more than a few scars that are still bleedin’ to this day, if you catch my drift.”

“It hurt… that it was brought up?” Hanzo asked.

“A little, but I know that safehouse. Ran a few ops out of it with an… an ol’ boss that was somethin’ of a dad to me in some really rough years. So bein’ reminded that it’s still there, and now there are Talon fucks pokin’ around those parts? Feels like someone’s diggin’ up a grave and leavin’ the bones thrown in the mud,” McCree sighed. “Blackwatch… what a shitshow. People should leave dead things where they lay. And if this Overwatch doesn’t want to go belly up like it’s predecessor, it’s better not repeat that shit.”

They fell into silence for a moment. Eventually, Hanzo hesitantly rested a hand on McCree’s shoulder, awkward and immensely so, but the tense muscle underneath his hand relaxed and McCree gave him a grateful but sad little smile.

“You’re a good man, Hanzo.”

“So is that why you blushed when I kissed your nose of all things?” Hanzo snarked back, smirking at the man.

“That-! That’s dirty and you know it,” McCree sputtered, turning red again.

“No, I don’t know, thus why I ask,” Hanzo smirked, liking teasing McCree a little too much.

“... Yeah well… I might have… a … crush,” McCree muttered, turning red to his ears. “A-and you don’t gotta do nothin’ about it just…”

“Ah.”

“You’re not… offended or nothin’ are you?” McCree asked almost shyly.

“No, I’m not,” Hanzo said, squeezing McCree’s shoulder. “I… do not know if I return your feelings though. I was never given a chance to really develop many relationships of any growing up. I… have a hard time telling the difference between friends or more.”

“That’s fine. Just… if you give a cute lil’ kiss like that again you’re bound to make be burn hotter than the sun, just warnin’ ya,” McCree muttered, still red but smiling now.

“Oh?” Hanzo grinned, leaning into McCree’s space, only for McCree to pull away and then start quickly shuffling down the stairs with Hanzo quickly following. “No, wait, come back! I want to know!”

“You’re fittin’ to kill a man today, Shimada!” McCree snapped over his shoulder.

Hanzo let out a snort of laughter, still giving chase, all the way back into the base.

* * *

The plane left that night, the team carrying light bags because it was stressed that this was a ‘smash and grab’ mission like McCree described.

Hanzo had contemplated what it would be like… working with his brother… Of course he would sooner die than harm his brother again, but instincts and raw actions were hard to control and Hanzo worried that his mind might slip back into darker memories and he might lash out at Genji. Thankfully there was McCree and Master Zenyatta there with them and he knew McCree was incredibly fast with drawing and shooting his gun. Hanzo would take the bullet if he did something violent towards his brother, even a glance.

But hopefully it was as Winston described and more about sneaking and information gathering rather than combat. Especially since it seemed like it would be Hanzo and Genji to first check to make sure that the safehouse was empty before McCree and Master Zenyatta could enter. He would just need to focus on the mission, on skills that he were well aware of and just not on his brother.

“ _You going to turn down the lightshow?_ ” Lena called from the cockpit as they were shook and rocked in their seats from her rough flying.

“Oh shit, should probably,” Genji said, cocking his head to the side and seemingly concentrating. After a moment the bright lights on Genji’s suit were dimmed, something that sent a sharp spike of anxiety through Hanzo’s chest before Genji threw the rest of them a thumbs up. Hanzo hoped to never see those lights go out completely.

“Remember when you used to use those red ones?” McCree called out over the noise of the plane.

“Don’t remember me of my edgy days,” Genji dryly said before giggling and kicking McCree’s leg. “Remember, you used to have those big ass sideburns and wore all black.”

“Hey, hey! Black was practically mandated in those days,” McCree chuckled, avoiding Genji’s kicking and kicking back himself.

“I wonder if it was because we all were edgy asshole or we all just loved Gabe that much,” Genji said.

“I think it was because of Gabe, who didn’t want to be like that ol’ badass asshole?”

Hanzo actually felt a pang of jealousy that these two got along. McCree made it seem like it was easy to just talk to his brother, to be friendly with him and even joke around with him. Hanzo could hardly be alone with Genji without having a panic attack, needing someone with them simply because Hanzo could not trust himself and some small frightened part of his mind was always wary of Genji seeking rightful revenge against him. No one would think ill of Genji for seeking--

“Bro?”

Hanzo snapped up, looking at his brother and the dim light of his visor, metal covered head cocked to the side questioningly.

“... My apologies, my mind was elsewhere,” Hanzo said quietly.

“Heh, no problem, I asked if you wanted to take the high road while I snuck around street level,” Genji said, “Sniper training and all that?”

Hanzo had a creeping feeling that Genji was hyper aware of Hanzo’s own failures to be alone with him and was once again looking out for Hanzo’s health despite Hanzo not being worth the fretting. But in this instance Hanzo had to bit his tongue and accept it, it would keep his mind focused on the mission, without his own thoughts fucking it up.

“Excellent thinking,” Hanzo muttered. “When we have confirmed that it safe from both sides, we will alert McCree and Master Zenyatta to come in. McCree should be aware of anything out of place.”

“Yeah, I’ll look over everythin’ first,” McCree sighed, more tired than anything. “In fact, there’s somethin’ personal I’d like to check, if y’all don’t mind the extra two or three minutes it’ll take to grab?”

“What is it?” Genji asked.

“An old momento. I remember Gabe leavin’ it there one time, jokin’ about comin’ back for it,” McCree explained before sadly looking off to the side. “Never did. Hopin’ that those Talon mudlickers ain’t run off with it.”

“Sure thing, but we gotta be quick,” Genji chimed.

“Quick is my middle name.”

“I thought it was James?” Genji deadpanned.

“Wait a second… your name is _not_... your name is not Jesse _James_ McCree… is it?” Hanzo asked incredulously.

Jesse whistled innocently.

“You really are a cowboy,” Hanzo gaped while Genji and Zenyatta laughed and laughed.

* * *

Sneaking was second nature to Hanzo. He had learned how to travel through even densely populated and brightly lit areas during his training in his youth and fine tuned the skill when he fled his family and then started his yearly trips back to Hanamura to honor Genji’s ‘death’. A skill as easy coming as archery, as easy coming as breathing to Hanzo.

Hanzo easily and stealthily jumped along rooftops and along the sides of buildings, avoiding lights, gazes and any form of detection. Occasionally he saw a glimmer of his brother as he made his way through the streets. But for the most part, Hanzo focused on his task of keeping an eye out for Talon agents as well as making sure that there were no eyes on the safehouse. When Hanzo made it to the rooftop above the safehouse, he carefully checked around for any signs of emergency escapes, any signs of sniper nests or recent activity. Thankfully there was a fine layer of dust and dirt on the roof, evidence of a lack of use.

“Genji,” Hanzo whispered softly.

“Finishing up,” Genji whispered back over the comm device in their ears. “Jess and Zen, you can start moving in.”

Hanzo checked over the roof another time, actually finding nothing that could lead into the safehouse. Satisfied with that, Hanzo carefully shimmed down to the street level where Genji was waiting, his brother nodding to him to acknowledge him. McCree and Master Zenyatta joined them a moment later, Zenyatta surprising Hanzo by actually walking, though quickly bringing himself back into lotus position when McCree pried the door open and ushering them in. Genji went in first, sword out with Hanzo following, bow out with an arrow notched. Zenyatta followed, harmony orbs whirling around his head and followed up by McCree, who shoved the door closed after them.

First and foremost, they had Athena check the room for bugs and the like, using their handheld comm devices to let her scan. Thankfully her scans turned up nothing, revealing just a standard low tech safehouse.

“Alright folks, let me look over everythin’ real quick,” McCree said.

The safehouse looked like it was just a large gutted out room with what looked like a system of curtains to form pseudo walls. They tensed as they watched McCree walk across the safehouse floor, looking over slightly dusty and banged up old furniture, turning out drawers and cupboards and looking through seemingly untouched shelves of old paperbound books. McCree even quickly lifted up the mattress of the single bed, tossing the thin pillows and blankets and sagging mattress. After looking everything over, McCree sighed as he stood in the middle of the floor, slipping a hand underneath his hat to scratch through his hair.

“Place hardly looks touched since I was here last,” McCree muttered.

“Strange, why would Talon visit this place but do nothing with it?” Genji noted as they relaxed, putting weapons away.

“No bugs, no cameras, no tech…” McCree muttered, “This is fishy… let’s look around. I’ll find that thing real quick and join you guys in a moment.”

Hanzo occupied himself with looking through the safehouse, choosing the small living space to look over. It consisted of what looked like a single sad bed, two shelves, a crooked dresser and what looked like a footlocker underneath the bed. The dresser only had dust and rat droppings and what looked like a sad and forgotten pair of socks in the bottom drawer. The shelves had miscellaneous books, generic books that were often more for decoration for their names than anything. 

The only thing of note on the shelf was a rather creased book, ‘Dante’s Inferno’ that Hanzo took out and skimmed through. Hanzo found tucked like a bookmark within the old pages, an old photograph. A dark skinned man wearing a hoodie and beanie, arm slung around the shoulders of what could have only been a very young McCree. The McCree in this picture was shorter and dangerously skinny, cheeks hollowed and eyes slightly dulled, glaring dark and bloody murder at the camera. Written on the bottom of the picture was the words ‘Going on our first mission!’ in a neat but darker and bolder handwriting.

“McCree,” Hanzo said, gingerly taking the picture out.

McCree had been fiddling with something in the bathroom, the only room with actual walls keeping it separated from the rest of the safehouse. But quickly abandoned whatever he was doing to come see what Hanzo wanted. The softening of McCree’s face told Hanzo that the photograph obviously was unexpected and meant something great, so was the trembling of the fingers that took the picture.

“I found it in this,” Hanzo said, holding out the well creased and obviously well read book. Jesse took the book and shoved it in his pocket, more focused on the picture.

“Shit, didn’t know he kept this…” McCree sighed.

“This was taken before your first Blackwatch mission, correct?” Hanzo asked.

“Yeah… botched it to hell, got shot full of holes,” McCree sighed, thumbing the picture lovingly. “Gabe ended up going on a goddamn shootin’ spree to save my ass and then hauled my scrawny ass back to Angie. Ended up takin’ a week off and Gabe made sure I took it easy all seven days… thanks for findin’ this Hanzo.”

“No troubles, have you found your memento?”

“The fake wall in the bathroom is sticky so it’s hard pryin’ it open, just need another moment,” McCree said.

“I’ll tell you if I find anything else,” Hanzo said, letting McCree getting back to what he was doing.

There was nothing else interesting in the living space. The footlocker had a few candy wrappers and an empty shotgun shell that looked far too large for just any shotgun that Hanzo knew, but besides that nothing of note. The bedside stand had nothing of note either.

Genji’s search of the kitchen just turned up a lot of expired and stale dry food and a barren fridge that needed a good scrubbing. Though that meant that no one had stayed in the safehouse long enough to require food. They seemed to conclude that no one was actually using the safehouse. Which meant that Talon had to have been looking for something quickly.

Zenyatta’s search of a small side room turned up something fruitful, a scribbling that must have dropped out of someone’s pocket. It was a list with marked off locations in barely legible handwriting. When it was turned over to McCree, he noted that two of the locations crossed off were two other Blackwatch safehouses and the others seemed like Overwatch safehouses. Regardless, they forwarded the next two locations to not be crossed off on the list to Winston to check on.

After a moment of everyone concluding that there was nothing out of place or of note, McCree finally loosened the false wall, pulling away the thin tile wall to reveal a buddle tucked away in an empty space that had been hidden away. Carefully McCree pulled it free and then replaced the wall, coming back to the waiting team to let them see. The bundle turned out to be a tightly wrapped up black hoodie.

“That brings back memories,” Genji sighed sadly.

“Yeah,” McCree sighed, snapping the hoodie to get the wrinkles out. “Man, what I wouldn’t give to have the crabby asshole that belongs in this back.”

“Same…” Genji sighed.

“Well… mission accomplished y’all. Let’s head back, yeah?”

* * *

Based on what they found at the safehouse and what another team found at another safehouse, Winston came to the conclusion that Talon seemed to be looking for their wayward operative, Reaper.

“As you can see,” Winston said, bringing up a picture of the list that Zenyatta had found on one screen and the list that the other team had found. The other team’s list included more locations, but the prime clue, a scratchy ‘Reaper hiding locations?’ at the top. “It appears that Talon has lost control of or their operative Reaper has left Talon. Either way, that’s not good. Reaper is an exceptionally lethal sub-human with exceptionally dangerous abilities and obviously a grudge against Overwatch. We’re going onto alert until we can get a track on him.”

“We have been tracking him down.”

The entirety of the assembled team turned towards Ghost, the sniper that had recently joined and 76 sitting by her side.

“And? Do you have a clue to Reaper’s location?” Winston asked.

“No, we lost track suddenly a few weeks ago. But based on scuttlebug before his sudden disappearance and what we knew happened before then, we can conclude that Reaper may be unstable,” Ghost said, voice soft behind her mask. “He may have left willingly or unwittingly.”

“So Reaper’s powers acting up was actually something,” Winston huffed, shoving his glasses up his nose, giving 76 a hard look that was not quite a glare but dangerously close. “Alright. I’ll help with your search. It’ll be too dangerous to run missions with an unstable Reaper out there. Everyone be wary, especially when leaving the base. If you see Reaper, call for help, do not engage. We don’t know what kind of power the creature has now. Dismissed.”

“Come on, pardner, we’re gonna do games and drinks in the rec,” McCree muttered to Hanzo.

“Are you going to blush red if I end up kissing you again?” Hanzo teased.

“Hush,” McCree grinned.

Into a few card games and some light drinks, Lena suddenly blinked into the room, gasping loudly. She seemed winded and shocked, fale pale and clammy to the eye.

“A big time jump? You okay?” Genji asked.

Lena gasped for a moment to catch her breath before breaking into a maniacal grin.

“I saw him,” Lena said. “He’s here! Or he’s gonna be. He’s going to be fine!”

“Saw who?”

“You’ll see when it’s your turn, not before,” Lena tutted, “I have to go though, it’s my turn!”

She blinked away, gone.

“... I worry about her sometimes,” McCree sighed before rejoining the game.


	7. King of These Scars, Master of None

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Mentioned past character abuse/death, mentioned tabaco abuse, binding, body horror, EMOTIONS ARE HARD GOOGLE HOW EMOTIONS
> 
> Forgive, remember the scars and keep moving forward

It was a good skill to have, hand to hand combat.

Hand to hand combat could save someone when all else failed, down to teeth, nails and fists could give someone precious seconds to save their life or at least go down swinging. There was also a rush from defeat opponents with just hands, using your body as a weapon, especially if they themselves were armed. A rush in defeating the odds and putting someone down yourself, nothing to aid you.

Hanzo rarely liked to do this though. It was too reminiscent of the days where he was nothing but a weapon, a tool to be used. And the act of laying hands on someone was very much too reminiscent of being struck as a child and when he used a sword to harm others. Sure, he would stoop when he used to break into Shimada grounds, incapacitating guards and such. But he would be lying if he said that he was not trying to vet lingering anger and pain towards whatever scraps of memories of his family through the unnecessary violence against innocents that worked for the ghosts of tyrants and monsters.

Hanzo pondered this as he watched Genji and Zenyatta fight hand to hand.

It had been just a passing glance that had caught Hanzo’s eye. Sunlight on metal. Then the sound, the blessed sound, of Genji’s breathless laughter that had made Hanzo turn on his heel on his morning jog to see the two sparring on a flat piece of grassy land. Then Hanzo watched transfixed as his brother and Master Zenyatta moved as though through the fluid and choreographed movements of an elegant dance. Trading blows, doding, parrying, ducking, weaving, turning, spinning. All the while, sunlight glinting off their metallic metal shells.

Hanzo was still not sure it was that drew him to watch, transfixed underneath the gentle morning sun’s warmth and softy yellow light, as his brother and Zenyatta sparred. Normally, despite his best wishes to repair things with his brother, just looking at Genji’s armor made him nauseous with guilt and grief and regret. But now… Hanzo supposed that he was not thinking about Genji’s armor or the parts that he had taken from his younger brother or the damage that he had done on several levels to the man. No, he was thinking about how fluid the movements were, how obvious it was that the two of them were having fun while doing this.

_His brother’s laughter…_

“Ah! Hello Hanzo!” Zenyatta said after one spin had the Omnic happenstance to face him.

“Morning brother!” Genji called, lunging for Zenyatta to take advantage of the pause only for Zenyatta to catch a wrist mid-motion and dead stop him at that point, ending with Genji on his ass and his wrist still held captive. Genji still laughed.

“...Good morning,” Hanzo said, realizing that the two had stopped to look at him after a pause. Thoughts were starting to turn to panic, as they always did around Genji--

“Out jogging?” Genji asked, not trying escape the grasp on his wrist, instead bouncing up and dusting himself off with his free hand.

“Y-yes,” Clearing his throat loudly, Hanzo forced himself to remain calm. Genji was trying to engage him in light conversation, he could do this. He could do this. Fake it until you make it, as McCree would say anyway. “Yes. And then I was going to do competitive with McCree on the shooting range.”

“Ha! Good luck with that,” Genji snorted. “Did I ever tell you about how Jesse was regularly neck and neck with a trained and certified sniper when he and she did competitive?”

“No, you… you do not often speak of your Blackwatch days, brother,” Hanzo pointed out, “And I often fail to initiate any sort of conversation with you.”

“Oh… I should change that! I’ve got so much dirt on Jesse that you can use,” Genji laughed.

“Why would I want to do that?”

“Shits and giggles, Hanzo, shits and giggles,” Genji said with a casual shrug, a roll of his metallic shoulders. “And there were a few golden moments during Blackwatch that I do recall fondly. I would like to share these moments with you.”

“I look forward to hearing them then,” Hanzo said carefully.

Genji visibly perked up, Hanzo sure that he was smiling underneath the faceplate. It was good… that they could share stories of that time. The fact that Genji was willing gave Hanzo a short burst of confidence in their slowly but surely repairing relationship. While it was a baby step, it was a step regardless, and Hanzo would _try_ and further it by sharing his own stories about what happened between the time of his unforgivable crime and when Genji found him again, back in that wretched place.

“I’ll let you go, to try and kick Jesse’s ass on the shooting range,” Genji said with a bounce in his voice. “Good luck, bro!”

Hanzo gave Genji a smile, an almost real one and one that would surely pass, and a small wave as Zenyatta and Genji walked off (Hanzo still noted hand in hand) before letting himself deflate and return to the last bit of his morning routine. The exercise and routine would calm Hanzo down before he saw Jesse, though the man would be thrilled to hear that Hanzo actually did well with conversing with his brother for one. The thought lightened Hanzo’s mood as he went about his day.

* * *

“Huh, really?” Jesse mused as he looked down the length of Peacekeeper and at the targets set up further down the range.

“Yes… I am glad that he is willing to share these memories with me. And… I think I need to hear them,” Hanzo said as he inspected his bow. Warm Up before the real competition. “I should learn of my brother’s life after I… ruined it.”

McCree thankfully said nothing, choosing instead to let Peacekeeper spin on his index finger, mindlessly chewing on the end of his thankfully unlit cigar. Hanzo wanted to suggest a stim toy instead. He, himself, had one in his bag in his room. Little things that Hanzo had done literally to stop self destructive habits like chewing on the inside of his own mouth until he tasted blood and flesh burned with open and practically gushing teeth marks. Back then it had been small steps to prevent infection that would hinder his movement, now it was because some small part of him was actually caring about his physical health.

“There were good times,” McCree finally said after a heavy pause. There was a heaviness to his voice, his ‘serious’ tone that Hanzo rarely heard and dreaded. “But there were also some not good times, some bad times and… a lot of really, really bad times. Just a warnin’.”

“I am… somewhat aware. But I will eventually need to hear them. To turn a blind eye and dumb ears to what Genji struggled with after our near fatal encounter would be heartless and immoral of me. Especially since I do wish to atone as much as I can for what I have done. Nothing can make it one hundred percent right but… I wish to try for any percent.”

McCree offered him a smile before using his gun to tilt his hat up and out of the way.

“Ready to start partner?”

“You put that cigar away and yes.”

Jesse grumbled but did as he was asked.

“I know, I know, I really need to quit,” Jesse sighed as they took up their respective weapons. “It’s a bad habit, makes me stink even when I’m washin’ every day, fucking with my teeth. Not to mention my poor lungs, already got my ribs fubar and fuckin’ with them and smokin’ is just makin’ it worse.”

“What is wrong with you ribs?” Hanzo asked.

“I uh… well I…” Jesse sighed, rubbing his nose tiredly. “I guess it was gonna come up at one point but uh… bindin’ is fucking up my ribs, especially since I’ve been doin’ it since I was uh… fifteen? But yeah…”

“Binding… as in… chest binding?”

“Yeah.”

“As in… breast binding?”

“...Yeah.”

“You are… transgender then?”

“...yes.”

“Jesse?”

“...yeah Hanzo?”

“So am I.”

Jesse accidentally fired his gun, still managing to hit a target but somehow Hanzo was not surprised. The man fumbled with his gun for a moment before looking at him, in what Hanzo could not tell if it was awe or shock and for some reason, Hanzo just smiled softly.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. Why would I lie on the manner?”

“I just uh… damn. Nice. You uh…. Damn you transitioned well.”

“And you think that you didn’t?” Hanzo chuckled softly.

“Well, you know how it is,” Jesse said, reloading Peacekeeper with practised movements before aiming down at the target range. “It never feels like it’s enough.”

“...It never does, does it?”

So they shot.

* * *

They actually planned time for Genji to tell him Blackwatch tales. They actually spoke, without falters on Hanzo’s part, about ‘hanging out’ with one another for Genji to regale him with tales of Blackwatch. Zenyatta was going to be there (thank fuck), and they were going to be in the rec room for it (again thank fuck), so Hanzo only felt slightly nervous about it. Nervous but still very eager to try. Baby steps. One little step in front of the other and so long as you kept making them, progress would be made. Slow progress. But progress nonetheless.

“Bro!” Genji grinned when Hanzo arrived at the designated time.

Genji was tangled comfortably with Zenyatta on the couch, and being courteous, Hanzo sank into an armchair close by. Close without being too far and thus distant or too close and… awkward.

“Thank you for spending time with me, brother,” Hanzo said, offering his brother a small smile.

“Nah, we gotta hang out more,” Genji smiled. He was devoid of his mask, the smile crinkled the scars on his face.

A tremor ran down Hanzo’s spine, muscle memory bring up physical sensation of inflicting some of those cuts across those cheeks, the feeling of the sword in his hands raking across the supple flesh of you precious brother’s face--

Hanzo tampered it down. Had to shut that down before that got ugly. Genji seemed to sense his duress and quirked a patchy eyebrow.

“My… apologies. My mind drifted. Please start.”

“Right, so… let’s see… fun Blackwatch stories… oh yeah! When I was first introduced to Jesse. It had just been when they had allowed me to walk for longer periods--”

Hanzo swallowed thickly.

“That was because of me. I kept stressing the new legs too much and well… I was a dumbass. Anyway I promise this is a fun story. So when they got me up and walking for longer periods and they wanted to introduce me to Gabriel and Jesse. I had briefly met Gabriel before but I was like… super high on pain meds and didn’t really remember him. I was also shown a picture of Jesse and all I remembered was ‘Who is this dumb cuck in a cowboy outfit?’”

Hanzo snorted despite himself, catching himself and coughing when Genji giggled.

“Anyway, Jesse and Gabe had just gotten off an undercover mission and they were both dressed up and I didn’t recognize the guy with Gabriel and Gabriel ran through this tired greeting and then gestured at Jesse and was like ‘and that’s McCree’,” Genji continued. “And I look this rather well dressed, skinny guy up and down and ask ‘I thought you were a cowboy?’ And you want to know what this smartass asshole says? ‘And I thought you were stumpier, last I checked’.”

Genji laughed but Hanzo did not.

“Genji,” Zenyatta said.

Genji cut his laughter off when he saw the haunted look on Hanzo’s face.

“Uh, sorry, not funny to you but I can laugh at it now,” Genji chuckled nervously. “Uh, did I ever tell you the time I got on TV?”

“We’ve been on the news before, Genji.”

“During Blackwatch. A TV crew had found us after completing a mission and Gabriel was trying to gently nudge them away. The camera bot turned to me as I was walking by and said ‘do you have a comment?’ and I said ‘Yeah, vete a la mierda’ and walked away.”

“What does that mean?”

“Jesse had just started teaching me Spanish curses. It means, ‘fuck off’,” Genji grinned crookedly.

Hanzo did laugh at that one.

“Gabriel broke down and laughed on camera and he had a few sort of harsh words to say between the giggles when we finally got them to leave us alone,” Genji grinned.

“A troublemaker…” Hanzo smiled, “I’m glad that you’re still one after all these years.”

“And you’re still stiff and boring,” Genji smirked back.

“Excuse you?”

“Boooorrrriiinnngggggg,” Genji smirked, sticking his tongue out at him. “I mean you still dress traditionally, you haven’t done anything with your hair. The little grey wings are funny as fuck though, bro.”

“Bah,” Hanzo rumbled but smirked at his younger brother. “It is a little late for a rebellious phase like you had when you were younger, brother.”

“Never too late for rebellion!” Genji grinned. “We can dye your hair blue or something.”

“A little… radical for my taste, brother.”

“Undercut?”

“What is an undercut?”

“Buzz the sides of the head and leave the top long,” Genji explained. “Or you know, you can go down the piercings route. Most of those heal if you take the piercings out so you can get and then just let it heal over. I used to have ones in my ears but, scar tissue and I can’t stop picking at them.”

“I will ponder this.”

“...Noooo, we’re doing it,” Genji grinned wickedly. “HOLD HIM DOWN ZEN!”

* * *

“Nice haircut Hanzo,” Hana beamed when Hanzo returned from his shower to the rec room, finding that Genji had probably gathered an audience for Hanzo’s return after the sheering. Hana actually looked away from her stream and McCree looked up from his creased copy of ‘Dante’s Inferno’ and Lucio was already snapping pictures from his phone.

“Yeah, lookin’ good,” Jesse whistled.

“My head is cold,” Hanzo huffed, embarrassed, as he scratched at the newly buzzed sides of his head. The stubble felt nice underneath his fingers, but he would admit but his face burned at all the attention.

“Nice, told you that a little rebellion would look good on you,” Genji smirked from his seat, sticking his tongue out at his brother. “Almost got him convinced on piercings.”

“You holding me down and buzzing the sides of my head does not count as ‘convincing’ me to get piercings,” Hanzo retorted but through a smirk.

“Ah but that’s where you’re wrong. It starts with a buzzcut, then you want to try a piercing, just one, maybe get your ears pierced or maybe a lip or tongue one. You know, one that you can hide or take out easily. And then it’s all downhill from there motherfucker, piercings are addictive, you’ll get more. And you _will_ get more. And then you’ll want tattooes, a shit ton of them, all over and lots of artsy and artistic ones too, with a lot of poetic meanings and then that one outdated meme tattoo because you get drunk on fancy liquor and it seemed like a good idea. Then you’re painting your nails black and going hipster/punk--”

“So I won’t just become a goofy carrot like you?” Hanzo snorted.

Genji looked scandalized, mouth agape and a hand raised daintily to his chest as everyone burst into laughter around them. But Hanzo could not be more smug, nor prouder in himself.

He was joking with his brother. And if that was not progress, then Hanzo would never know what progress was.

* * *

“So… now that we are on a… slightly better standing…”

They were sitting in the shade of a tree, the morning sun slowly warming into the afternoon sun as the two brothers enjoyed a moment of peace and quiet. Zenyatta was currently meditating quietly to Genji’s other side, the mala orbs chiming quietly in his zen like state.

It had been about a week since Hanzo had gotten the undercut and decided that he liked it. Despite his saying otherwise, he was seriously contemplating getting at least one piercing though doing research into the one he wanted to at least start with. Hanzo had also spent time several times with his brother, the two slowly getting a rhythm together of how to interact with each other, slowly relearning what people they had become over the years.

“Yeah, nerd?” Genji asked.

“... You must be aware that McCree has confessed to having feelings for me? No matter how small?”

“Dude, he gay thirsts hard, of course I heard about it,” Genji laughed softly.

“I must confess that I still do not know if I return them but… he is your friend Genji, one of your best friends if listening to you two is anything to go by. He was with you in a dark time and you probably told him of the crimes I had committed against you. And--”

“Hanzo, take a breath.”

Hanzo sighed.

“How does that make you feel?” Hanzo finished lamely. “He is your friend. A good friend. And we might be working towards a better relationship… I am still someone who has done you very wrong and has been a large source of trauma in your life.”

“Well… since we’re trying the ‘healthy sibling relationship thing’ and communication is key… it was weird at first and there was some anger,” Genji admitted.

Genji was devoid of his faceplate and helm plates. Underneath the helm was a wild spray of green hair, slightly faded and wild from the mostly hidden scar tissue along his scalp. Hanzo had gotten a bit more used to the seeing the consequences of his crimes on his brother’s skin, it still hurt and made him keep the fact that he had done that to his precious brother fresh in his mind, but the sharp sting was slowly dulling. Genji sighed loudly before puffing at a stray lock against his forehead, getting it back mostly in place.

“I mean, McCree was there when I was screaming and yelling and, let’s face it, a murder machine,” Genji explained. “I told him everything once I warmed up to him enough and he shared my anger, validated it for me and that helped push me towards realizing that perhaps I wasn’t thinking clearly and needed to clear the storm of rage blinding my mind… but…”

Genji squirmed.

“McCree told me once… ‘You have every right to be angry… but do you know the full story’? I had, of course, gotten pissed off because I didn’t want to think of any other side other than my own. It took years for me to think of that again and… while I think I got the shaft worse no doubt about it… there was more going on and you were also a victim in the grand scheme of things.”

Hanzo looked over at his brother, staring in the distance. Genji looked sideways at him and snorted.

“What? Didn’t think I wouldn’t look into what the hell happened? I learned a bit about what happened afterwards… the spiral you had and how it apparently broke you.”

“...Genji…”

“So, it’s weird? But hey I’ve forgiven you and I know you’re trying to do better and be better so there’s not much to do That being said if you want to bone down, I refuse to be your wingman,” Genji snarked. “I’ve got my own gay shit to attend to, thank you very much. And besides, you need the chance to build up the personal skills and your flirting skills while meaning it.”

Hanzo snorted, knocking shoulders with his brother.

“Of course. I would not sacrifice your character like that, dear brother.”

“Great. That being said, I wouldn’t mind giving you ammo for small talk because even I pity your communication skills.”

“Fuck you.”

Genji laughed.

* * *

“Reinhardt seems in a mood,” Jesse noted.

The group had been playing card games for the better part of four hours. It was a lot more fun to play cards when not bargaining for money, Hanzo had decided, who had hustled cards for cash in bad spots whiles he was on the run. No, they were playing for colorful but meaningless poker chips that Hana had broken out from her private stash of weird odds and ends, and also playing for bragging rights. Right now Jesse was in the clear lead despite everyone at the table but him cheating.

However, as the game wore on, Jesse had become increasingly distracted (though he still kept winning). They frequently had to bring his attention back to the game when his turn came back around. Jesse speaking was almost a relief if only to see what was bothering him.

“Huh?” Hana asked, frowning at her hand and her thin pile of bright pink chips with her logo on them.

“And Angie… and Ghost… and 76…” Jesse muttered.

“What are you going on about?” Genji asked, though looking genuinely concerned about his friend.

“And Lena…” Jesse muttered. “And Torbjorn…”

“Jesse?” Hanzo asked.

“...Nothin’,” Jesse said, turning to the game.

“No, I know that look,” Genji pushed, “You’re in your serious mode and plotting. Let us in, Jesse.”

“...They’ve all been actin’ funny,” Jesse caved. “Angela’s been spendin’ time down in her lower clinic more and we all know she likes the peace and quiet but usually only after socializin’. And she ain’t been doin’ much of that recently to warrant it. Lena’s been popping in and out all over the place and she doesn’t like doin’ that as much, usually just to keep the ol’ knocker going. But she’s been doin’ her jumps a lot more recently and she keeps mentionin’ a ‘him’.”

“Okay, and?”

“Reinhardt used to be real sad, you can tell he misses the old squad and his mentor, but lately he’s suddenly been better. And I know he hasn’t been to any head doc and doin’ that shit on your own usually takes a lot longer than a couple of months. And I walked Torbjorn’s dinner out to him and I saw him workin’ on a mask.”

“How’s that weird?” Hana asked.

“Torbjorn despises masks,” Genji explained. Based on the look on his face and the heaviness of his tone, he was seriously thinking about Jesse’s explanation. “He was very against anyone wearing masks during Overwatch and while he helped forge my armor and prosthetics, Angela had to seek outside help for my faceplate because he refused to do it.”

“So why suddenly work on a mask?” Jesse mused.

“Do you wish to confront one of them?” Hanzo asked.

“No…” Jesse said quietly before going back to the game.

* * *

Hanzo let the trouble thought go until later that evening when Jesse and himself were drinking underneath the moonlight. A quiet moment underneath the clear night sky lit up by the full moon and stars. The night was cool and the breeze was gentle and pleasant as they drank and looked out over the vast ocean, the night sky, stars and moon.

“...I… did somethin’ I’m not proud of,” Jesse sighed after a while.

“Hmm?” Hanzo asked.

“I went snoopin’ around Ghost’s and 76’s rooms and found out some stuff… snooped around Angie’s clinic and found more stuff…” Jesse said.

“What... stuff?” Hanzo asked.

“You know Reaper?” Jesse asked, answering a question with another question.

“Yes, the sub-human terrorist that recently left Talon. What about him?”

“He’s on base.”

“...What?!” Hanzo said, lurching up. “We have too--”

“Sit down Hanzo… please…” Jesse… almost pleaded.

Despite alarms going off in Hanzo’s head about an enemy being so close, about how he needed to warn the others and eject this monster from their hold… there was something in Jesse’s voice that made him want to listen. Carefully, Hanzo sat back down, looking over Jesse’s face and noting that darkness of his eyes and the heaviness of his frowning mouth and the lines in his face that seemed deeper. Or perhaps it was just the moon throwing shadows where they did not belong… or where they were always supposed to be and only the warmth and sun chased them away.

“...Do you know anythin’ about the original Overwatch and Blackwatch?”

“Besides what you have told me, not much.”

“Well, three big names have been thought dead for years. Ana Amari, Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes. Ana shot through the head by Widowmaker. Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes in the explosion that leveled the Swiss Overwatch base… come to find out that Ana Amari lived because the shot took out her prosthetic eye. And that explosion? Didn’t kill Jack Morrison or Gabriel Reyes. Jack Morrison, through shit pumped into him, lived and Gabriel Reyes well… he stopped bein’ human.”

“...Ghost and 76 and Reaper…”

“Ana Amari sans an eye, Jack Morrison in a shitty vigilante outfit and even more of an asshole then he was years ago and Reyes… so fucked up I don’t even know what to say about him,” Jesse sighed.

“... Are you well, Jesse?”

“...No, to be completely honest with you Hanzo, I’m not,” Jesse sighed louder. “Three people that I looked up too and thought of as my family and mentors… they were dead and I mourned them and moved on and now… their back and they ain’t the people that I once loved.”

“I’m so sorry, Jesse.”

“...I don’t know what to do, Hanzo,” Jesse said, burying his face into his arms on his propped up knees. “I mourned them, they were fuckin’ dead. I missed them so much over the years but… now they’re back and they didn’t hardly tell nobody and… I was so sick of losin’ people and I don’t know what to think or feel…”

Jesse was hunched in on himself, appearing as small as a man his size could appear, quivering and shaking with the force of his quiet sobbing. After a moment of watching Jesse fall apart, Hanzo gently leaned over and wrapped his arms around him awkwardly. Hanzo pressed his face into Jesse’s shoulder and neck and just held onto the man as he sobbed and broke down. A wreck. His world turned upside down and him, left reeling and unable to process all of this at once.

* * *

Hanzo went with Jesse when Angela called him down to the lower clinic, ignoring Angela’s quirked eyebrow at his presence. Hanzo was here for Jesse and he was going to remain as long as Jesse wanted him there.

“So… you know,” Angela said when she closed the door behind them.

“Yeah.”

Soldier 76 was in the room, holding his rifle. The man was devoid of his mask, revealing an aged man underneath with a face marred two two large scars that slashed down his face and two milky blue eyes. For such a rough and mysterious man, Hanzo was almost surprised by how… normal he looked. Scarred and thinned with what could have only been rage, anxiety and stress but… he would have passed for a normal person perhaps. In another life.

But there was a new comer that Hanzo did not recognize, even with how antisocial he was generally. An older gentleman with completely greyed out hair and a pair of obviously prosthetic arms and… eyes? Yes his eyes were fake, while at a glance they looked normal, something like a cross hair was laid over his pupils and irises and it glowed like there was a light within. Hanzo had a feeling that the man could scan him and was. The man took out an e-cigarette from his mouth and blew out a smoke cloud that had Hanzo wrinkling his nose.

“Then you should know, that regardless of your feelings, that I’m helping him,” Angela snapped unkindly, bringing Hanzo back to the tense situation at hand. “Ana is helping, Reinhardt is helping, Torbjorn is helping, Lena is helping, Jack is helping and officially we now have outside help here to help him.”

“Dr. John Steel,” The man gruffed out, stuffing his little e-cig behind his ear. “Specialist in making high end prosthetics, but recently I’ve gotten a lot of attention for getting into nanites. Right now Dr. Zeigler has… ‘hired’ me to investigate our client… Gabriel Reyes.”

“...I want to see him…”

“Very well…” Angela sighed before going over to the only curtained off bed and yanking the curtain away. “Gabriel you have visitors.”

 

Behind the curtained was Reaper unmasked.

Hanzo had thought that Reaper wore the mask to hide his identity. But now he saw that the man was trying to hide what the hell he looked like underneath. Skin darkened and greyed in death, a liberal spray of eyes across his forehead, cheeks and nose. When his lips parted for a breath, Hanzo saw that man’s mouth was crammed with shark and demon like teeth. A demon. A monster. A literal walking spirit of death and destruction and the mask was a faux calm before the hideousness of the maelstrom that was Reaper on the battlefield.

“...Hey Gabe,” Jesse said flatly.


End file.
